


Clefs and Crowns

by TheAdorableTia



Series: When Two Become One [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Prequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:54:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27634393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAdorableTia/pseuds/TheAdorableTia
Summary: No soulmate mark had appeared on Roger's skin in his nearly 21 years of life, and he's given up hope that it ever will. It's not until John Deacon auditions to join Queen that finally Roger sees the inky mark appear on his skin. It must be a coincidence. Right?
Relationships: John Deacon/Roger Taylor
Series: When Two Become One [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020564
Comments: 61
Kudos: 46





	1. Doin' Alright

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This story is a prequel to my other work 'Curls of Smoke and Music Notes'! I highly recommend you check that one out if you're into Hardzello, or if you want to read more of this particular soulmate au!

Roger woke up to a cold spot on the bed next to him. ‘Oh thank christ,’ he thought to himself as he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. His previous night’s company must have taken off while he was asleep, and he was thankful for that. She’d been pretty enough, but he had been in no mood to give her the morning after speech about having fun and leaving it there. The sun was peeking through the curtains of his room, and he blearily peered over at his clock to see that it was nearly half past eleven.

“Ah fuck!” Roger tumbled out of bed, the duvet wrapped around his legs. He hit the floor with a thud and hissed out curses. He had nearly forgotten that he, Brian and Freddie were going to audition another new bassist today. Brian would murder him if he thought that Roger had forgotten. As it was, he was probably in for at least a sound maiming for being late. The blond didn’t even bother to check over his body to see if any black marks had appeared on his skin over night as he usually did when he showered and dressed. None had shown up in his nearly twenty two years of life, and by this point Roger was sure none ever would.

Roger almost knocked over at least four people in his mad dash to make it to the hall where the band was holding the audition. He didn’t even call out to say he was sorry, but he did throw a wink over his shoulder at one bird he passed. She must have been new as he didn’t recognize her from around campus. 

As soon as he opened the door to the hall Brian had reserved for the audition, Roger felt an itching sensation against his ribcage. He chalked it up to being a stitch in his side from his sprint across campus. He looked to where Brian, and miraculously, Freddie were sitting and gave a small apologetic smile. Brian just gave him a scowl, and Freddie almost looked gleeful at not being the late one for once.

“Lovely for you to join us, Roger darling.” Freddie said with a tone that was much too chipper for how little Roger had been awake.

Roger took a seat next to the two men, and finally turned his attention up to the little stage where a man stood, his long fingers fiddling with the bass guitar held in his hands. At first glance, Roger might have thought that it was a girl standing up there. His long hair was fluffy, and brown, falling to his shoulders. He had high cheekbones, and bright eyes that Roger couldn’t tell the color of from a distance. He wore flared jeans that were so tight on top that Roger could practically see the outline of the guy’s dick. The man gave a shy little smile, looking up through his lashes in a way that seemed almost demure. The stitch in Roger’s side was still there, and he wriggled in his seat as he let out a quick apology.

“Now that we’re all here..” Brian said with a pointed look over at the blond drummer, he turned back to the bassist and gave him a nod. “Go on ahead John.” 

John, as he was apparently called, gave a small nod of his head before taking a deep breath and began to pluck at the strings under his fingers. Roger felt himself immediately entranced by the sounds that John was coaxing from the bass in his hands. The notes ebbed and flowed around and through him with every breath he took. It was like the man was following a beat that only he could hear, guiding him through riffs and key changes. Roger could follow it along exactly, nearly able to predict where the notes were going even though it was something he had never heard before. 

John was good. No, not just good. He was incredible. His fingers never faltered as he played, no matter how fast the rhythm turned. It was eternity, and also no time at all when John came to a crescendo with what was clearly meant to be a solo. The last note echoed around the room, and Roger let out a breath that he hadn’t known he had been holding. The stitch in his side was gone now, and he hadn’t noticed that it had stopped with the final note of John’s song.

John hadn’t known what came over him when he started to play. He’d had a set in mind when he came in to the audition. He was going to play some classics, then a bit from the band’s original songs, and then maybe a little bit of some freestyle stuff he had come up with. However, the moment he first plucked a string, there was a beat inside of his head and body that he couldn’t ignore. It was wild and lovely, strong and smooth. He plucked and pressed the strings under his fingers in ways that he had never done before, the beat coaxing out sounds and rhythms from him that were at once both familiar and alien. He could feel the rhythm in his head coming to a climax, and his entire body fell into it. His eyes closed and his platform clad foot stomped along to the beat, and a few moments later, the beat was gone, along with the last note from his bass.

John finally looked up, and saw three sets of eyes staring at him intently. Only one truly drew him in though. The bronze haired man who had been late, Roger he remembered from what Brian and Freddie had told him, had eyes that were like the ocean and sky. Even from this distance, the color of them was so clear to him. He barely registered that he was being spoken to, catching only the last bit of what Brian had said to him.

“That was fantastic, John. Would you just give us a moment please?” The curly haired man said with a small, reassuring smile.

“Y-yeah, alright.” John said with a slight bit of nervousness in his voice. He placed his bass into its case after unplugging it from the homemade amp he’d brought with him. He walked past the three men as he went to wait just outside the door, and the little shy smile that he gave to them made Roger’s heart flutter just a tiny bit. Not that he would ever admit, or even acknowledge, that it had.

As soon as the door closed, all three men started to talk at the same time. In the end it was, of course, Freddie who was able to get his opinion in first. 

“We must allow him in.” There was a glint in Freddie’s eyes. The same one he would get before he got an idea for lyrics or when he saw a piece of clothing that he thought would look good on stage. “He’s the best player we’ve seen, and he’s absolutely adorable. He’ll look wonderful on stage.” The wheels were already turning in Freddie’s mind as he thought of different outfits he could get John to wear.

“He was really good.” Brian said next, “He’s definitely got talent, and Freddie’s right. He seems nice, if a little on the shy side.” 

Roger had gone quiet for a moment while the other two spoke, which was out of character enough to draw worry from the other two men. When Roger did speak, it was with a wide grin on his face.

“He was good, but… can he keep up with me?” Roger already knew the answer. The way that John’s fingers had flown across the frets and strings through different keys and melodies without hesitation had told him that the young man could probably do just about anything.

Roger stood and went up the little platform and to the drum kit that was already stationed there. It was just a practice kit that was usually left here for students to use, but he’d used it enough times to know the set’s little quirks. “Come on then, get him back in here.”

Freddie and Brian exchanged a look, and then Freddie gave a shrug of his shoulders before Brian stood and went to the door to call John back in. 

“If you don’t mind, Roger wants to see how you two could get on.” The guitarist’s soft voice managed to be calming to the visibly nervous bassist. That wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for John, as he tended to get nervous around new people and performing. Most of the time he tended to run away from these situations.

These people managed to put him at ease somehow, to a certain extent. It was when he looked at the blond drummer that he felt himself relax more fully. There was a look of determination and glee on the man’s face that felt almost infectious to the brunet. John gave a nod of his head before heading back up on the platform with another one of those shy smiles directed toward Roger. He pulled his bass out of its case once again and plugged it back in after he’d slung it over his shoulder.

“Do you know any of our songs?” Roger said, one corner of his mouth turned up. John thought his voice was lovely. On the higher side, with a slight bit of rasp to it, and he also knew from seeing a couple of their gigs before that his singing voice was almost angelic.

“Yeah, Brian gave me some sheet music, and I’ve seen you play a couple of times.” John nodded, his own voice still quiet as he fiddled with the tuning head. 

Roger gave him a nod, and with a wink in John’s direction, he gave a countdown and launched right into Keep Yourself Alive. John caught on quickly to the song, and soon found himself following along with Roger’s lead. A couple of minutes into it he gave a glance at the drummer, and it was like the tables turned. He began pulling the blond along to his beat, the dance of his fingers along the strings coaxing Roger to play along with him as he mixed up the basic riffs that had been in the song before.

It was like a game for them, the push and pull of the rhythm with each other. Roger led them into another song after that, something that was still a Smile original but a bit slower than before. John kept up with the drummer the entire time. Not only did he keep up, he was nearly showing Roger up in some places as he twisted the rhythm to something that he liked better. The drummer never missed a beat as he played along with the bassist, only needing to glance at each other every so often to make sure they were in sync with one another. It was like they were always meant to play together like this.

As the second song came to an end, Roger allowed it to come to its conclusion. He smashed at the cymbals and John’s fingers walked along the bass before one last powerful strum. Their eyes locked over the drum kit, each one’s breathing just slightly heavier than it had been just before they started to play. The drummer grinned, open and wide, at the brunet which was returned with a small smile, eyes glancing up from underneath dark lashes. 

The two barely heard the applause coming from the seats beneath them, but turned their gazes to where Freddie was enthusiastically clapping and cheering with Brian rolling his eyes at the antic, but still looking pleased.

“That was marvelous darlings!” Freddie said as he stood with a little hop. “You’re absolutely in, John dear, if you’ll have us.” It didn’t need to be discussed any further than that. Brian, Freddie, and Roger knew that John Deacon was the piece they needed to complete the band, without question. Roger knew it down his bones that this young man, barely more than eighteen, was the one they had been searching for. 

John looked between Freddie’s wide grin, Brian’s little approving smile and felt a bit of nerves rise in his chest. He’d come to the audition but after seeing the members up close and getting to know them a little he’d been a little intimidated by their talent and looks. John looked back over to Roger, still seated behind the drum kit, and smiling like a fool. It was all John needed to get the next words out of his mouth.

“Yeah, alright. Sounds good.” 

“Now that’s settled, how’s about we go get a drink to celebrate?” The drummer said as he stood up from his perch and bounded over next to John. “There’s a little pub round the corner, they give discounts to students.” 

John gave another nervous look to the three men, who were nodding in agreement. When he looked at Roger, and those big blue eyes, it was like he couldn’t say no. “I could do with a pint.”

Freddie and Roger both cheered, and Brian merely rolled his eyes in a fond way as he grabbed his own guitar in its case. John packed up his own bass, and unhooked the amp while the other three asked him more questions about himself. What age is he? Nineteen. What was he studying? Electrical engineering. That answer got a small laugh from Roger, and a small joke about John being a brainbox. Had he been in bands before? Yes, just one when he was in secondary school but hadn’t played with them for over a year. 

Roger led the group to the parking lot where his van was parked, and told John to leave the bass and amp in it while they walked to the pub. He’d parked the thing there the previous night before he’d gone out, thinking the walk to his place wasn’t that far and the parking on this side of campus was easier than at his own. As they walked, it became very clear that John wasn’t pretending to be shy or quiet. He spoke softly, and answered most questions with concise and to the point answers. It didn’t stop Roger from staying right next to the brunet the entire time.

Once they’d arrived at the pub, Roger went straight to the bar and flagged down a female bartender who gave him a look that he knew all too well. He knew the effect that he had on most women. Usually he’d fall into that look, lean forward across the bar and turn on the charm. Right now, he didn’t feel the urge to do any of that. He just wanted the drinks and to get back to his mates as quickly as possible. The bartender frowned a little bit when Roger didn’t return her attempt at flirting, but she went and got the drinks all the same.

A few minutes after entering the place, Roger made his way over to the table that the other three had managed to snag with a tray of pints in his hands. He felt something stir in him when he saw the first real smile that had come from the newest member of the band. John’s smile was sweet, and almost innocent with a slight gap between his two front teeth. It made the corners of his eyes crinkle up in a way that Roger thought was endearing, and urged you to make the man smile even more.

“Budge over then,” the blond said to John as he sat the tray down on the table and passed each man his pint before sitting down in the open space that John had made for him. His arm automatically went to rest on the top of the booth behind John’s shoulders, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for him to do. John didn’t shy away from him, like Roger nearly expected him to do. John didn’t seem the type to be into a lot of closeness, but he’d have to get used to it regardless. The other members of Queen were quite touchy, and enjoyed a snuggle. This felt different somehow. Roger shoved that thought into the back of his mind, and turned his attention back to the conversation at hand. 

Brian and Freddie were probing more at John, trying to coax more answers from the brunet. As more of the beer disappeared into their bellies, and more glasses were filled and brought to the table, John opened up a bit more. His smile grew more frequent, and Roger found himself telling dumber and dumber jokes and stories, trying to make that look stay on the bassist’s face for as long as he could. 

John felt himself slipping comfortably into the group, even though he’d only known them for a few hours at that point. He was four pints in and thoroughly tipsy. He hadn’t felt this included in a long time, since he was with his last band. Roger’s arm had migrated from behind him, to resting on his shoulders, and even though John usually had an aversion to being touched by people he didn’t know, this gesture was comforting to him. Brian was very nice and exceedingly smart, and it seemed like Freddie had already declared himself John’s protector. It was Roger, though, who made John the most comfortable. He told jokes and stories and laughed at himself and the others without a care. Sure, he got upset when the others poked at him for an especially dumb stunt he had pulled, but that was understandable and kind of adorable if John were honest.

It was a good sign, in John’s eyes. The rhythm section had to be in sync, and had to get along or else nothing would work. He felt at home next to Roger, which was a scary thought, but when he looked into those ocean eyes the fear went away. That in itself should have been a red flag if there ever was one, but John just couldn’t find it in himself to care when Roger was right there next to him.

The group departed the pub after and half walked, half stumbled back to Roger’s van where John and Brian grabbed their guitars and John’s amp from the back.

“See you at practice John, Thursday at four.” Brian said with a wave as he took off with his special guitar strapped across his back. John nodded and waved back, now just left with Freddie and Roger. 

“I’m heading back to the flat, I’ll see you later this week John dear.” Freddie said with a grin and moved forward to wrap his arms around the surprised brunet in a tight hug. John gently returned the gesture with a pat on the flamboyant man’s back. It even made him smile a little bit. Freddie was a character, that was for sure. “See you at home Rog.” Freddie casually tossed out as he made his way around the van and headed back to their shared flat.

“Did you need a lift John?” Roger said, even though John had already unloaded his amp and bass from the back and now had them strapped to his body in anticipation for the walk. He told himself he was just being a good bandmate, offering a ride but deeply in the back of his mind, he just wanted more time with the bassist. 

He didn’t know that John was thinking the same thing. 

“No, I’m alright. I’m just a few blocks away. The walk will be nice. Clear the drink from my head a bit.” Not to mention Roger wasn’t exactly in a state to drive anyways, but John didn’t think that would go over too well.

“If you’re sure,” Roger’s voice was soft. He never felt this nervous or anxious about parting ways with someone. Not his family, Freddie, Brian, and certainly not any of the trail of girls he’d left in his wake. “I’ll see you thursday then?” It was more of a question than a statement. John gave him a nod in return and shuffled from foot to foot before turning to leave.

Before he could, Roger moved forward and pulled John into a hug, just as tight as the one Freddie had given him. This one didn’t feel as awkward. It was like everything with Roger had been so far. Natural. Expected. Needed. John returned the hug, holding Roger a little more tightly and for longer than should strictly be necessary for two men who hardly knew each other.

They broke apart almost as quickly as the hug had come together, pulling away like they were on fire.

“So, yeah. Thursday.” Roger said with a small cough and a wave as he pulled out his pack of cigarettes, and lit one up, ready for the walk back to the flat. 

“Thursday.” John repeated back to him and turned on his heel and began walking away, feeling heat creep up into his cheeks. He had no idea what this was all about, but space would help clear his head. And getting rid of the alcohol. He was sure that when he woke up tomorrow, sober, he’d feel more steady and whatever weirdness this was would be sorted out.

By the time Roger got home, he felt almost normal again. Tipsy, but normal. Except for the tiny little pit in his stomach. Like something was missing. He ignored the feeling, chalking it up to being drunk. He crawled into bed after removing all of his clothing except for his briefs and curled up under his duvet, trying his best to keep thoughts of the new bassist out of his mind.

The next morning when Roger woke up, he fumbled around, eyes bleary and hair a wild mess. He’d tossed and turned before falling into a fretful sleep. It was Freddie’s day to work the stall alone since Roger had classes he had to attend. He managed to stumble his way into the bathroom, yawning wide and then hissing when the bright light of the room hit his eyes. He barely kept his eyes open as he turned on the shower and let the water run until it got to comfortable temperatures.

He robotically moved through his routine, barely bothering to open his eyes for most of it. It wasn’t until he was in front of the bathroom mirror, getting ready to attack his hair and tame it that he noticed a bit of black on his ribcage just beneath his left arm. 

“What the bloody hell?” He said quietly as he raised his arm and studied the inky marks that were now on his body. His poor eyesight wasn’t doing him any help, but he leaned in closer to the mirror and saw that it was lettering that appeared on his skin. The letters were backwards, but he could make out what they said.

‘ _Liar_ ’ was written across his skin in neat, but loopy, handwriting. There was something odd about the dot above the i, but Roger’s eyes couldn’t make out exactly what was different about it.

All Roger knew, as he kept staring at the mark on his skin, was that something had changed between yesterday, and today. He needed to figure out exactly who it was that had made it happen, and he was going to find out or die trying.


	2. Keep Yourself Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next few days of Roger and John's life seem to blur along, neither one sure where they're going. Roger needs to find the woman from the audition day, and Deaky encounters someone. Could they be the one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to apologize in advance. Happy reading!

When John woke the morning after his audition, he had to pinch himself. When he’d gone to bed the night before, he half thought it had all been a dream. It’s what it had felt like from the moment his hands had begun to play at the audition. After the first note rang out, everything seemed a little hazy. 

Except for Roger. Every moment involving the blond man was etched into John’s brain with startling clarity. John had never connected with anyone as quickly as he had with the drummer, though his easy falling in with Brian and Freddie wasn’t too far behind. 

He’d gone through his morning routine quickly, trying to keep his mind from drifting as much as possible. He needed to focus, even if there was a little piece of him that wanted nothing more than to be with the other members of the band instead of sitting in a lecture hall to listen to an old professor ramble on about different mathematical theories. His eyes ghosted over the black marking that peeked out over the top of the towel wrapped around his waist in the mirror over the sink, and he pushed away a thought that began to creep up in his mind. 

His day seemed to drag on, minutes feeling like hours as he tried to stay alert and present in each of his lectures. His mind kept wanting to wander off back to the audition, and playing alongside Roger. If that had been any indication, he knew that playing with all of them together would be incredible. They would be a force to be reckoned with. 

He hadn’t yet heard Freddie’s singing ability, but he had seen Brian play guitar before and the man was brilliant, if a little bit on the showy side. Freddie was flamboyant and probably put on a good show, if nothing else. Roger was masterful at playing the drums. The way his hands and feet moved independently of one another, playing fun little beats and also keeping a steady rhythm was impressive. 

John’s brain was lost in thought, trying to remember a bit of the music he had played for his audition when he felt the jolt of a body hitting his, making him stumble back. Thankfully, he had chosen to wear his trainers today instead of his favored platforms, or else he might have fallen flat on his arse in the middle of the hallway as he walked to his next lecture. 

“Oh I’m so sorry!” A female voice said as John, shook his head, trying to clear it from the shock of being run into. He looked around and then down to see a young woman around his age knelt on the floor, gathering up papers and books that she must have dropped in the collision. “I’m running late to my class and I didn’t see you there, and I am just so sorry.”

John went down to join her, trying his best to help her. He looked at her a little more closely now, as she turned her face up towards him, a look of embarrassment clear on her face. She was pretty, and seemed close to his age. She had a blond bob and wide eyes on a dainty face. On first inspection, it felt like she was a nice person. At least, John hoped she was. 

“It’s alright,” he spoke gently, with what he hoped was a reassuring smile on his lips. “I wasn’t quite all here myself. I take half the responsibility.” He handed over the papers he had managed to gather, and she took them with a shy smile, a pink flush coating her cheeks. “I’m John.” He spoke as they stood up, John brushing himself off as they did.

Her eyes widened just a fraction as he introduced himself, and the flush deepend and she spoke. “I’m Ronnie.”

John’s heart did a skip as his mind thought about the mark on his lower stomach. This could be the moment. He’d always been told he would know when the moment happened. That one when he met his soulmate. Was this it? He couldn’t tell for sure, but John never had been very good with people anyways. 

“Uhm, I have to go.” Ronnie said as she backed up from John, her eyes moving to look at the floor, books clutched to her chest. “Maybe I’ll see you later, John.” She turned her gaze back to his face with a small smile.

“That would be nice.” John said, just as shyly as she had. He meant it, too. The short meeting had made him think that she would be nice company to have. “Well, goodbye then.” He said as he started off on his path to his next class, Ronnie doing the same. 

As John walked, his mind started to drift again. He thought about Ronnie, and how pleasant she’d seemed. Sweet, quiet, and a little shy. His thoughts turned back to the black mark on his skin, but as soon as he did, all thoughts of the blond woman exited his head. It seemed to fit on the surface, but something about it just didn’t ring quite right. It was like his soul was repulsed at the idea of aligning Ronnie with his soulmate mark.

The same thought that had tried to creep into his mind from that morning tried to press into him again, and just as before, he shoved it away before it could take any root inside of him. It was ridiculous, and totally outside of the realm of possibility. He wouldn’t entertain the idea at all.

The next couple of days passed by in stretches of blurs punctuated by moments of clarity. John just wanted time to move faster, he wanted to be with the band. With Roger. It was insane to feel that way, but Roger made him feel more at ease than anyone else in this entire city had since he’d come here for school over a year ago. 

Little did John know, it had been nearly the same for Roger. Between working at the stall and attending classes, Roger’s brain had wandered back to John in any spare moment that he had. The thought was usually brought up when Roger thought about the mystery of the soulmate mark appearing on his skin. It was a very big coincidence that it had shown up the same day as the bassist’s audition. It was a coincidence, it had to be. There was no other explanation. Two major things happening in one day, that was all. They’d been linked together in his mind because of it. 

There had been that new girl he had seen in his rush to get to John’s audition. He’d never seen her before, so maybe she was the one who had caused it to appear. That had to be it. He needed to figure out who she was, and see her again. He’d been in such a rush he hadn’t thought about stopping to get her name or anything. He could find out who she was in time, but it was now an urgent matter to find her, and figure out if it was indeed her that made that word bloom on his ribcage. He still hadn’t been able to figure out exactly what it was about the dot above the i that made it different than normal. 

He’d thought more than once about asking Freddie to take a closer look to see if he could tell what it was, but each time he dismissed the thought. Freddie knew that Roger was a Blank. Roger didn’t want to deal with people knowing about it just yet. He just wanted to find the woman who had made the thing appear before he announced to the world that his mark had appeared. He really hoped that it hadn’t been because he was going to be twenty-one years older than his soulmate. That always felt creepy when there was such a big age gap between soulmates. It had made him shudder every time he thought of that possibility. 

When Thursday came around, Roger felt a slight giddy excitement at the prospect of getting to play with John again. They had meshed so well at his audition, and the drummer just knew that adding in Freddie and Brian to the mix would make everything that much better. That’s what he attributed the butterflies in his stomach to. That’s all it was, just the idea of the band finally being complete. 

To his credit, Roger showed up on time to the rehearsal. In fact, he was actually a few minutes early, much to Brian’s surprise who made a habit of being ten minutes early to everything. He managed to get his own kit set up in the rehearsal space before John walked through the door. Roger’s grin grew, and the butterflies in his stomach seemed to flutter as John made his way to the little platform they used to play on. 

John turned that shy smile on Roger just like he had at the audition and it made Roger’s heart flutter in that way he would never admit to. 

“Hello John.” The blond said with as wide a grin on his face as he could with a lit cigarette hanging between his lips. He gave his toms a couple of experimental taps, making sure they sounded right, his eyes never leaving the brunet walking across the stage. 

“Roger.” They way John said it with a little glint of amusement in his eyes, like they already shared a secret made Roger want to smile even more. “See you set your alarm this time.” Roger let out a small bark of laughter at John’s teasing. He’d only seen a glimpse of it at the pub when they had gone out after the audition, but here he was using it like it was normal for them. Roger liked it.

John didn’t know where the sudden boldness came from, talking to Roger like would with someone he’d known his entire life. The blond didn’t seem to mind though, and he actually laughed at John’s bit of sass. Like the night at the pub, it felt natural to interact with Roger this way, like they were meant to be doing it. The idea sent a blush up in John’s cheeks, and he quickly turned to set up his own amp and bass, trying to focus on the rehearsal ahead of him.

Brian brought over some pieces of paper, handwritten sheet music for John to read. “Go ahead and read through this, it’ll be a bit before Freddie shows up.” The curly haired man said with an eye roll. There was fondness in his words though, like it was an annoying but loveable habit for the dark haired man to be perpetually late. John hoped that it only applied to things like rehearsals, and not any actual gigs.

Roger watched as John read over the music, his hands moving over the strings of his bass, mimicking the way the notes would be played when they actually got around to rehearsing. A swell of something came up from his stomach when he saw the look of concentration on the brunet’s face. His tongue was between his lips, brow furrowed as his eyes scanned over the pages. The blond smiled when John looked his way, probably sensing Roger’s eyes on him. The bassist gave one of those little shy smiles to Roger, and he returned it with a grin and a few taps on his toms. 

“Sorry I’m late, darlings!” Came Freddie’s voice from the door of the rehearsal space, breaking John and Roger from their little reverie. 

“No you’re not!” Roger said as he pulled his eyes away from John and looking towards their lead singer, casually sauntering in like he had all the time in the world.

John couldn’t help but smile at the exchange. He gave Freddie a little wave, which was returned with one from the singer. “I’m glad to see we didn’t scare you off, dear.”

“There’s still time, Freddie.” John said playfully. His comfort level with these people so soon was both unnerving and also welcome. It was a strange dichotomy that he was still trying to wrap his head around. 

“We need to run through some songs, let John get a feel for how they go.” Brian said after clearing his throat to get the attention of the other three men. He plugged his guitar into his own amp, and gave the strings a few cursory plucks to make sure that the sound was working. 

Throughout the rehearsal, John found himself drifting to stand near Roger and his drum kit, glancing back at the drummer to make sure they were in sync, just like they had during the audition. Of course, things didn’t run exactly smoothly, but nobody thought they would be perfect from the beginning. John had made some mistakes here and there, but his embarrassment over the mess ups were quickly smoothed over by the other three. They never corrected him on his playing ability, never told him he was doing it wrong. They just encouraged him to try again, and sometimes led him through the bit he had trouble with, making sure that he got it all.

At the end of the rehearsal, the four men sat down at the edge of the platform and went over how everything had gone. Brian, Roger and Freddie all agreed that this had been a much better rehearsal than they’d had with any previous bassist they’d had since Tim. A small surge of pride welled up John at that, and he swore that Roger’s own back straightened, and his grin grew wider at the same time like he was also proud of John.

“We’ll only keep getting better as we play together.” Roger said as he hopped off of the platform, his hand automatically reaching out for John to take to steady himself when he did the same. John’s hand was large and warm, and felt like it fit with Roger’s nearly perfectly. He felt the oddest impulse to lace his fingers together with the brunet, but pulled his hand away as soon as the idea passed through him.

Soon, the four men had broken down their set up for the rehearsal, and had Roger’s drum kit packed up in the back of the van. They stood next to the vehicle, Roger and Freddie with cigarettes as they finished up their conversation. 

“Anyone up for the pub?” Roger said as he ground the butt of his cigarette under the toe of his shoe, exhaling the last of the smoke in a puff.

“Sorry blondie, I’ve got a date with Mary.” Freddie said as he pulled on his favorite fur coat, the one that his girlfriend had ‘liberated’ from her job at Biba for him. “Besides, I’ve been out on the pull with you enough times to know how the night will end.” Roger flipped him the bird as Freddie walked off with a laugh at Roger’s gesture. “In your dreams, darling.”

Brian pulled the strap of his guitar case over his body, settling it so that it would be comfortable for his walk home. “Got a paper due soon, sorry mate.” The curly haired man gave a small smile and nod of his head, that same look of annoyed fondness on his face as when talking about Freddie being late, like Roger’s need to go out and drink and flirt was just as amusing. He gave the pair a salute and headed out on his own.

“Oh fine then,” Roger said with a roll of his eyes, and then turned to John. “Come on Deaky, don’t let me down mate.” His eyes were large and pleading, turning up the puppy eye look that Brian and Freddie knew better than to fall for. John had not yet built up an immunity to that look, and he honestly did want to spend more time with the blond man.

“Deaky?” John asked with a raised eyebrow as he slung his own guitar case across his back, along with his amp. 

“Yeah, it’s got a nice ring to it. More fun. Not that John isn’t a good name.” The drummer said quickly when both of John’s eyebrows went up. “It’s a great name, very.. Strong. Noble, even.”

“You just want me to come to the pub with you, flatterer.” John said with the smallest twitch of his lips. He was trying to keep a straight face, and not give away his amusement at the blond’s floundering. “Unfortunately, I’ve also got homework.” He meant it. He did have homework, and he did mean that it was unfortunate. He so badly wanted to go with Roger. He wanted to have a drink with him, talk, and share stories about themselves and their lives. He just wanted to be close to him. 

Roger’s face fell, and he felt something inside of him drop at the prospect of having to be away from the bassist until their next rehearsal. The idea of going out lost its appeal, now that he wouldn’t have John going with him. 

“But… I guess one pint couldn’t hurt.” Roger’s face turned back up, surprise evident on it. A huge grin spread across his face when he saw the shy smile back on the brunet. “Let me drop my stuff off at my dorm first, it’s on the way to the place we went last time.”

“Wait, you mean we passed your place twice that night? Why did you walk all the way back with us?” Roger said as the pair began the short trek to the pub. Roger tried to take John’s homemade amp, to help lighten the man’s load, but he just stubbornly held on to the thing. It was his own version of Brian’s Red Special. John had built it from scraps, and he was quite protective of it.

“My bass and amp were in your van. I didn’t know we were going to pass my dorm on the way. By then, it seemed silly to mention it.” A small flush appeared on John’s cheeks, and he hoped that the fall of his hair would hide most of it.

It really was only a few minutes of walking until they reached the building that housed John’s dorm hall. He told Roger to wait, and that he’d back back in a few minutes. Roger pouted internally. He wanted to see what Deaky’s room was like. Was he messy, as Roger was? Or was he really neat? Did he have stacks of books, or records, or the like? He probably had tools and all sorts of little bits everywhere, being an engineering student. 

Roger pulled out his pack of smokes and lit one up while he waited, leaning against the front of the building, like he was some sort of fifties movie bad boy. James Dean or Marlon Brando maybe. He was too pretty for that with his long hair and rock and roll style, but it was the image that his posture conjured up. A couple of girls had come up to him where he stood, and began to strike up a conversation with him. It was obvious to the blond that they were trying to flirt with him, trying to tempt him into going with them, or to get an invite along to where he was going.

After another obvious attempt by the women to get Roger to flirt back with them, the front door of the building opened and John emerged, dressed in a different shirt than he’d had on for practice. In place of the practical tee shirt he’d been wearing was a nice black button up, simple but elegant on the slim man. Roger really wished that he had the foresight to keep an extra shirt in the van, as he was still in his slightly sweaty clothes from rehearsal.

“Sorry girls, that’s my mate. We’re off for a lad’s night. Nice talking to you.” Roger extricated himself from the women with a smile that was usually good for charming people, and lightly grabbed hold of John’s arm, propelling him away before he could say anything.

As they walked away from the women, Roger looked over at John and saw his shoulders shaking slightly. He narrowed his eyes and looked closer, and saw John was biting on his lower lip. It didn’t hide the fact that his lips were quirked up at the corners. He was laughing at Roger, or at least he was trying to hide his laughter.

“You wanker! I thought they were going to eat me!” Roger said, trying to sound angry, but he couldn’t stop the bit of laughter in his voice. “And you’re laughing at me!”

“They looked so gutted Rog.” John said, finally allowing his breathy laugh out. 

The rest of the walk was spent with John teasing Roger more about the two women, and Roger trying his best to be mad about it, and failing miserably. It made John smile, and he couldn’t find it in himself to make him stop joking if it kept it there. Everything was so easy between them, it all fell into place so naturally from the way their strides kept together to the way they played their instruments so in harmony.

They entered the pub, and John declared “Find us a table, I’ll get the drinks.” He started to make off towards the bar, but Roger stopped him.

“No way mate, I’m the one who dragged you out, I’m buying.” He said as he tried to skirt around John to get to the bar.

“You didn’t pull me kicking and screaming Rog, though I was tempted.” John said with a cheeky smile. “I’ll buy yours, and you buy mine. Sound fair?” 

Roger couldn’t fault his logic, even though it did seem a bit silly for them both to go up to the bar, order for each other, and then pay. There had been a certain amount of fun to it, almost like an inside joke. They weaved through the surprisingly packed place in search of somewhere to settle. Thursday evenings weren’t exactly the time for getting pissed, but the place was filled to the rafters with all sorts of people drinking and laughing and eating greasy pub food.

“Aha!” Roger said as he spotted a small table shoved into a corner. It would be a great location for people watching, and was out of the way. He led John through to it, and when they took their seats, John slid into the seat next to Roger instead of across from him. Like their first outing, Roger’s arm moved to rest along the top of the booth behind John’s head. Roger told himself that having John next to him was purely so they could both see out into the pub, and so that they wouldn’t have to shout to hear each other talking.

Truthfully, he just wanted John next to him. He wanted his arm behind him, and wanted everyone to know that this was his Deaky, and God help anyone who tried to mess with him. Roger took a sip of his beer while his eyes scanned across the room, but no one held any interest for him. That wasn’t the point in any case. He was here to learn more about John, to see the man smile, and get to know him better. He wanted John to feel welcome with the band, and to feel included.

Roger was laughing at a remark Deaky had made about a couple of blokes at the bar, and how they somehow managed to resemble a couple of cockatoos, but with less style when he saw her.

His laughter turned into coughs when the realization came over him that it was the woman he had seen the day of John’s audition with the band. She was beautiful, with long legs, and tan skin with silky brown hair, and dark eyes that looked like they smiled a lot. 

“Rog? You alright?” John said, his hands moving in the air like he wanted to put them on Roger, but couldn’t decide where, or if it would help any. Concern creased his brow at the sudden coughing fit. Roger’s eyes flit across John’s face, taking in the expression and then moved back across the room to the girl who had joined a group of other women and was laughing at something one of them had said.

“Yeah.. yeah I’m fine, just caught by surprise.” Roger said as he took another drink of his nearly empty pint to help clear his throat.

John’s eyes followed the line of Roger’s gaze, and he took in the sight of the woman. That must have been what had caught him off guard. She was very gorgeous. Maybe she was an ex of his, or maybe.. Maybe it was that moment for him. The one where he met his soulmate.

Something in John railed against that thought. This wasn’t Roger’s moment, but he felt his stomach sink all the same. It was a strange sensation, and not one that John had ever felt before. It was like envy or disappointment, or maybe even jealousy. But at what? Roger was his bandmate, and his friend. Why would John need to feel those things about him? He put his hand against Roger’s upper back, and gently rubbed it, trying to soothe him still from the coughing fit that Roger hadn’t fully gotten over it seemed.

Roger’s brain was whirling around at high speeds. His mind kept flipping around, trying to decide what to do. He wanted to go over and see the woman, find out who she was, and whether or not she was the one who had made the word appear on his skin. Another part of him, just as strong as his curious and determined side was yelling at him to not abandon John. He couldn’t just leave him here. He didn’t want to leave him here. He wanted to laugh with his mate, have another beer, and see just how many more smiles he could get out of the brunet man. 

Roger was so torn. His desire for answers was strong, but his desire to stay here with John was just as strong. There were things happening in his gut that made it feel like he was being punched for even having this strange tug of war inside of him, but he just didn’t know which way that feeling wanted him to go. He knew which way he should go, and he knew which way he wanted to go, but they weren’t the same thing. One was what was expected for him to do, while the other one scared the shit out of him. The prospect that he had never considered, and one that he fought to keep contained. It was impossible.

There was a war raging on inside of him, and Roger didn’t know what to do. When he looked back over at John, it was like his own expression was mirrored there. A look of confusion, with wide eyes and a hint of uncertainty.

What the hell was Roger going to do?


	3. Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger makes his decision, and both men deal with the consequences of his choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Small warning, there is mentions of internalized homophobia.

John felt like every single one of his nerves were on edge. There were some feelings swirling around in his gut as he stared at Roger next to him in the booth. There was confusion, and an overall sense of anxiety that had begun to rise inside of him. It had to be in response to seeing his new friend looking so nervous. The blond looked much paler than he had just before his little choking fit, and there was a glint of something in his eyes as they passed between John and the table filled with women.

John found it odd to watch, like Roger was trying to choose between him and going over to meet the girl that had caused the fit in the first place. If this was Roger’s moment, John didn’t want to be the one that caused Roger to miss it. At the same time, he wanted the drummer to stay with him, to choose him. It was a strange feeling for the bassist, to want someone to stay with him that wasn’t a girlfriend. Friends came and went throughout his life, and though he missed some of them, it was nothing compared to how badly it would ache for Roger to leave his side. 

He couldn’t do that, though. He couldn’t be selfish in that way. It would be cruel to Roger to keep him from finding his soulmate, and John couldn’t imagine hurting this man who he realized had instantly become his best friend.

“Is she.. Do you think she’s the one?” John leaned in and whispered into Roger’s ear, close enough that his own brunet hair mingled with the blond’s. John swore he could see the older man’s body shiver when his breath moved across the man’s ear, but his mind must be playing tricks on him.

Roger’s face turned towards John’s, so close that their noses were nearly touching. The bassist should have moved his face back, but he froze in place, green-grey eyes locked with bright blue. The brunet watched as Roger’s eyes scanned over his face, then his head shifted slightly to peer at the now laughing woman, before turning back to John.

“No. She just.. Looked like someone I used to know.” Roger leaned back a bit, and took another sip from his pint, eyes focused on his Deaky now, thoughts of the tan woman falling to the back of his mind. The more he looked at John, the more he realized that the woman hadn’t elicited any response from him. No more than the usual things he felt when he saw an attractive woman, in any case. 

John’s body relaxed, like he was releasing tension he hadn’t known he’d been carrying, and he took another drink from his glass, finishing what little was left in it. He felt a sense of sadness when he’d finished the glass. He’d told Roger he’d go for one pint, and he really did have homework that he needed to do. There was an essay he had due in a week, and he wanted to get it done as soon as possible. He was never one to procrastinate. 

“Well, time to go then?” Roger said after the last of his beer slid down his throat. John had said one pint, and even though he didn’t want it to end, he needed to respect Deaky’s words. He had been surprised that the bassist had come out with him at all. He seemed the type of person who was on top of his work, and someone who was dedicated to what he was doing. The Deaky Amp was a testament to the man’s skill and passion for working with electronics. Not to mention his passion for music.

John’s face flickered again with that sense of indecision, trying to make a choice. 

In the end, John chose to stay with Roger. It was the least he could do. After all, Roger had chosen him. At least, that was what it had felt like to the younger man. He couldn’t pin his finger on it exactly, but he knew Roger had made a decision about something in that moment.

They stumbled out of the pub later that evening, both laughing like maniacs, arms slung around each other’s shoulders for support. In the back of his head, John just knew he was going to regret this in the morning when he had to get up for his day of classes. At the moment, he couldn’t be arsed to care. Roger’s arm around his shoulders felt warm and secure, and his own arm was laced around the blond’s waist, fingers squeezing on to his hip. 

Roger used his free hand to pull his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and used his teeth to pull one out of the package before lighting it. He did it all with an arm still wrapped around John’s shoulders, like he’d done it a thousand times before. Maybe he had, with women in the past. The thought sent a pang of something like envy through John. He pushed the feeling away, and plucked the cigarette from Roger’s fingers before he could take another drag from it.

John brought the stick to his lips and took a long pull from it. He held the smoke in his lungs for a moment before allowing it to curl out from his mouth slowly, savoring the taste of the nicotine. He turned his face to Roger, and the look on the blond’s face was priceless. The blond quirked his lips up into a grin.

“Deaky, didn’t know you smoked.” Roger took the cigarette back from John and took another drag from it. “Bad boy.” 

John laughed as they walked, more staggering than anything, along the pavement on the way back to his residence hall. “Only on occasion. Don’t tell my mum. She’d murder me.” They got to the front of his dorm building more than a few minutes later, their stumbling and laughter slowing them down as they went.

“Well, goodnight Deaky.” Roger had the strangest sensation that this was like the end of a date. There was an urge to lean in to John, and.. No. No. This was John. Deaky. The man who had become his best friend in less than a week. His bandmate. The other half of the rhythm section.

“Goodnight Rog.” John said with a little smile on his face, one where his eyes glinted with mischief. “Isn’t this the part where you kiss me goodnight?” He said quietly as he leaned in a bit, like he was sharing a private joke. If he were sober, he would have shoved the impulse to say those words down inside of him. But he wasn’t sober, and he’d allowed them to slip past his lips, in a teasing manner. He'd never be able to take those words back now, even if they were meant to be a joke. He told himself they were a joke.

Even under the yellow light of the lamps by the doors of the building, John could see a flush rise up in the drummer’s cheeks. There was a moment where John thought that Roger might actually do it. He leaned in closer to John, but instead of lips meeting, he smiled and brought a finger up to tap the tip of John’s long nose. 

“I don’t kiss on the first date. What kind of gentleman would I be then?” He leaned back and started walking backwards down the street in the direction of his and Freddie’s flat. He gave salute to John and turned around after one last appraising look at the brunet and walked off into the night, lighting up another cigarette as he did.

  
  
  
  
  


It had taken everything that Roger had in him to not take Deaky’s joking invitation. He’d begun to lean in, had nearly given in to the urge, but stopped himself at the last moment, and had made his own joke in return. He had then retreated as fast as he could without flat out running in the opposite direction. Even then, he’d had the strongest urge to turn back around, and stop John from going into his building. 

He was an idiot. There was nothing between him and John except for friendship. A friendship that had come on so strongly and so quickly that it must have been.. No. He wasn’t even going to think about it. There was no chance of that being the case. Roger was heterosexual. He had to be. Sure, he’d seen the occasional bloke that looked good, but he’d never acted on it. It had only been in his head, and only for a brief moment. 

By the time he’d returned to the flat he was nearly back to normal. As normal as he could be when drunk and questioning something he knew about himself in his very bones. His soul though. It was telling him a different story. It was just one that he refused to hear.

When he got back into the flat, he went to the bathroom to shower off the sweat of the day, and the lingering scent of beer and grease from the pub. When he looked at himself in the mirror while the shower was running to get warm, he studied the black mark on his skin again. 

_ ‘Liar’ _

The word hit him harder in this drunken state, and with the paths his mind had wandered down in the meantime. He was a liar.

He studied the curling word again, closer still than he had before. As tears began to well in his eyes, he swore that the strange dot above the i was in the shape of a bass clef. 

  
  


In the communal shower room of the dorms, John was having a drunken crisis of his own. He had wanted Roger to kiss him. He was so sure that he was going to when he leaned in, but he hadn’t. What scared the bassist was just how much he had wanted it to happen. Even though his words had been meant as a joke, he couldn’t help the pit of yearning that had been in his stomach at that moment. 

As he stood naked under the warm spray of water in his shower cubicle, he looked down at the mark that rested just beneath his navel. The black mark stood out against his pale skin, the curves and lines of it seemingly mocking him in their form and shape. The answer was right there on his body. It terrified him of what he was now sure it meant. The thought that had been creeping into his mind the past few days came to him again with full force. He knew it was true, but even here, alone and secluded, he wouldn’t give the thought words.

  
  
  


Now that Roger knew where John lived, he had to squash the urge to go there every day. He didn’t know which room the brunet was in, but he’d bang on every door until he found him if that was what it would take. He stopped himself by remembering that he had classes to attend, the job at the stall to maintain so he could afford rent and food, and the surety that he would see John at their next rehearsal in a few days time. Just a few days. He could hold on until then. Deaky was just his friend, and his bandmate. He had to have imagined the bass clef shape on his mark the other night. He was drunk, and he hadn’t looked at the thing again since. 

He perfunctorily looked around the halls of his university for any girl who might feel like they had a spark in them that could match up to his mark, but every time he did, his brain immediately dismissed them. He kept trying, even though in his soul he knew what the truth was, even if he was refusing to accept what was right in front of him. 

It had been one week, seven whole days, since the pair had last seen one another. It was time for their rehearsal yet again. It was hard to believe they’d only known each other for a mere two and a half weeks. It felt like they’d known each other for eons, and when they played together it was as if they’d done so for their entire lives. There was an easiness to being around the other, that both men were now starting to realize might have something to do with the black marks permanently inked onto their skin, though neither one would admit it. To each other or to themselves.

They were half way through their rehearsal time when Freddie called for a break.

“We’re making fabulous progress!” He said with a cheerful note that managed to bring smiles to each man’s face. 

They really were sounding great together. The four men gelled together in a way that no previous bassist had done for the group, in big part due to how much in sync John and Roger were when it came to the music. All it took for them was a glance and they knew where the other one was going. Even with songs John barely knew, it was almost easy to follow along because he only needed to look at Roger to get where the rhythm was going. 

The four men sat on the edge of the platform; Roger with a cigarette lit and hanging from his lips, Brian with his guitar in hand and checking over the strings, John next to the drummer and occasionally swiping the cigarette from him to steal a drag, and Freddie had pulled out his notebook and was quickly passing his pencil across the pages, filling it with words and doodles. 

“Let’s have a look Fred,” Roger said as he saw Freddie smile with his pencil still. This usually meant that the singer had completed an idea or thought, usually some sort of song lyric or sketch.

“Was thinking about Deaky’s audition,” Freddie said as he gathered up the papers that he’d been writing on, “That bit that he did at the end would be perfect for this song I’ve been working on. A little solo, a moment for our Deaky to shine.”

Freddie passed the papers over to the blond, and Deaky leaned in, his shoulder pressing against Roger’s as their eyes scanned the page that Roger held in his hands. Both men went absolutely still, as if they were statues. 

Written at the top of the page where the title went was the word ‘Liar.’ Roger’s heart stalled and then started up again, this time pulsing at a rate that could give his fastest drum beats a run for their money. 

John was more focused on the little drawing right next to the word. It was a crown, sitting on top of a capital ‘Q’. The drawing nearly exactly matched the little black mark that colored his skin just below his navel. The only difference was that on his body, the crown sat on top of the letter ‘R’.

Panic seized both Roger and John, the emotions twisting around inside of them. Their breaths started to turn into pants, their hearts racing and blood flooding into their cheeks and necks as they both came to the same conclusion, though neither one knew the other was thinking the exact same thing.

This proved it. Indisputable truth was right there on the page. The drummer and the bassist both looked up from the paper and their gazes met, each one filled with a flurry of emotions. Fear, panic, relief, and something else they couldn’t put a name to. Not just yet anyways.

Next to them Freddie, who had been watching them, waiting for their response to his lyrics gently whacked Brian with the back of his hand to get his attention. The curly haired man startled, and started to ask Freddie what the problem was when he saw the way that John and Roger were staring at each other. 

“Holy shit.” The guitarist said under his breath. Both men looked like they were on the verge of some sort of panic attack, if they weren’t already in the middle of one. A lightbulb went off in his and Freddie’s brains when they both had an epiphany. This would explain a lot. How in sync they were when they played together, how well the two got on from the very beginning, how they managed to become so indescribably close in such a short amount of time, even though they hadn’t seen each other but a handful of times.

Brian tugged on Freddie’s sleeve and gestured with his head towards the door, trying not to alert the rhythm section men what they were doing. The two seemed so caught up in their own bubble that they barely registered that they had discreetly been left alone when The other two snuck away to give them privacy.

“John, I need to tell you-”

“Rog there’s something you need to-”

Both men spoke at the same time, each one flushing as soon they realized.

There was a pause, something like tension hanging thick in the air between the two. Both the drummer and the bassist wanted to say the words, but both were so scared to put it out there, even if they’d been about to blurt it out. The sudden silence was sending nerves through both men.

“You know.. It’s probably better if I showed you something.” John was the first to break the pregnant silence. He hopped down from the platform and held out a hand as Roger went to do the same. The brunet took in a deep breath and started to unbutton the fly of his pants, making Roger’s cheeks flame up again. 

“Deaky, what are you-”

John held up a hand, asking for silence without a word. His eyes stayed glued to the blond as he tugged up the end of his tee shirt and pushed down the front hem of his jeans and pants just enough to show off the black mark that had been hiding under the fabric.

Roger’s eyes moved down to the exposed skin, and he sucked in a breath. The skin there was creamy pale, with a dusting of dark hair leading underneath the edges of his pants. Nestled in the little vee formed by his hips was a black crown that looked just like the one that Freddie had sketched on the paper still clutched in his hands. It was sitting on top of a stylized letter ‘R’ that looked nearly identical to the ‘R’ that was written on the top of every paper that Roger had submitted through his university career. It was  _ his _ ‘R’ written in the same way he used when he signed his name. 

Roger barely noticed that he had let go of the papers in his hand as they fluttered down to the floor, the pages scattering across the carpeted floor. Wordlessly, he stood and planted himself in front of John, and with shaking hands, he lifted the hem of his own shirt and turned slightly to the side. He watched as Deaky’s eyes traveled along his own skin, his body shivering as if he could feel every inch they looked at. He knew when the brunet’s eyes landed on the word etched into skin, because his reaction was the same as Roger’s own had been. A gasping breath, and a dark flush of pink across his cheeks.

John’s face snapped back up to meet the blond’s blue eyes again, and it felt like something settled inside of the men when they did. It was like something was slotting into place, and like a sigh of relief inside of their cores.

  
  


“You know what this means…” John said warily, scared of what Roger’s response might be. He could sense the tension and fear in the other man. The bond that they now knew they shared didn’t need to tell him that. It was written all over the drummer’s expression. He knew it well, because he was wearing the same look on his own face.

Roger swallowed thickly and nodded, even if his brain was afraid to admit it. Admit to being something that he had never considered, and had been told his entire life was wrong. Some big cosmic fuck up. His voice was barely above that of a whisper when he spoke into the echoing silence of the rehearsal space. “We’re… we’re soulmates, John.”


	4. The Night Comes Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger must face the facts, and Freddie is there to set him right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Thank you for reading! This chapter is a little bit shorter, but I thought it was a good place to end it before getting started on the next. 
> 
> TW: Vomiting.

The tension in the air was thick as the blond and brunet stood in the rehearsal space, eyes locked. So many emotions were swirling around, flowing back and forth between them so violently that they didn’t know whose was whose anymore. It was a physical ache, like someone had punched them in the gut and then twisted their hand. Even though there had been a relief in their souls, other feelings were overriding that.

Fear and uncertainty were the reigning emotions in John and Roger. Roger’s eyes kept darting between Deaky’s eyes and the still visible mark on his lower stomach.

“I can’t..” Roger swallowed thickly, emotions coloring his voice. “I can’t do this.” He let go of the hem of his shirt, and grabbed his jacket. He had to get out. The cloying tension in the room was suffocating him. He made to leave the room, but John reached out a hand and grabbed on to his wrist. Electricity and fire ran along Roger’s arm, but in a way that made his spine tingle with a feeling he had only ever associated with women. They had never made him feel it as intensely as this.

“Roger, please. We need to talk about this!” John said, his tone pleading, his eyes shining like they might spill tears at any moment. “Don’t leave. Don’t let me deal with this alone.”

It was those eyes that made him hesitate. The green-grey depths of them sucked him in, and he had the urge to move in closer to Deaky and make the built up tears go away. He wanted to banish them from the younger man’s eyes and never let them shed another tear. The impulse had him reeling again. He couldn’t want that. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t what he had been  _ taught  _ was right.

With a surge of willpower he didn’t know he had, the blond pulled his arm away from the brunet’s strong grip. He knew if he stayed any longer, he would give in. His fear of what that meant, of what it meant he would become, overrode his desire to be closer to the bassist for a split second. He used that moment to turn his back on John and ran from the room. The last thing he heard as he rushed through the door made his heart shatter, but still he ran. 

The sound of the broken sob that came from his Deaky, echoed through his mind on a loop as he kept running, trying to distance himself from something he knew he couldn’t escape.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Roger kept running. He didn’t notice, or care, if people around him stared at the young blond man sprinting full tilt down corridors and out on the London streets. He just needed to get away. Fight or flight. That’s what his biology lectures had taught him. It was basic animal instinct that when confronted with a threat, the urge was to fight back, or to flee.

Roger was usually a fight type of person. He hadn’t been afraid to attack back. Not for several years, at least. This, though? This was an internal battle. It was a fight against himself, and the teachings that had been drilled into him throughout his entire life. 

So he ran. He ran away from what was causing him to feel this way. He ran from John, because the idea of fighting him, with words or with fists, was so repellent to him that the idea of it made him queasy.

He wanted to forget. He didn’t want to feel all of these things. Alcohol. He needed alcohol. He needed to be numb to everything, even if it was only for a little while. He finally slowed his pace when a stitch began in his side. He wasn’t exactly in the best of shape. He was fit, yes, but he also smoked frequently and though drumming was good at keeping him toned, it was not a substitute for actually working out.

He kept walking, his pace quick but not nearly as fast as the run. He scanned the street, finally taking in his surroundings. He’d been running blind, not paying attention to where he turned or to street names. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw a street sign with a familiar name on it, and was able to get his bearings enough to know he wasn’t totally lost.

After a couple of minutes, he saw a sign for a pub ahead and he made a beeline for it. He went into the space, barely noting the particulars of his surroundings. One pub was as good as the next, and at the moment he didn’t really care about the decor. He only cared that the sign above the bar told him that it was happy hour, and that shots were on special. He made his way to the bar, squeezing into a space near the end of it, and managed to snag the male bartender fairly quickly. He ordered two shots of vodka and a pint, and when the barman returned, Roger wasted no time downing the two shots one after the other, using the pint as a chaser. He chugged half of the glass before stopping for a breath.

He looked around the room, and noticed that it was filled with people that were around his age. Probably more university students, with what looked like a few more locals who probably lived in the area. The pub he’d gone into wasn’t very far away from the university, still within a reasonable walking distance. He’d come here quicker than most people did, but that was out of sheer desperation and fear. After a few minutes sat at the bar, sipping at his beer, the alcohol had managed to start working it’s magic on him. There was a pleasant buzz starting to settle in him, and his brain stopped thinking about the sound of Deaky choking out a sob as Roger ran away from him like the coward that he was.

Roger ordered another two shots and a pint from the barmen, and downed the vodka just as quickly as the first two. Now he was really starting to feel the effects. Rather than the pleasant buzz that had been present after the first couple of shots, there was a sadness and melancholy that was taking root inside of him. It was an ache so deeply inside of him that he struggled with his boozy brain to figure out what it was. It was heartbreak, and longing. He couldn’t figure out if it was his own, or if it was Deaky’s, because _ fuck,  _ he was his soulmate.

Roger slammed the pint and ordered more shots. After that, everything became a messy haze. He remembered nothing but the shots, the pints and pretty faces that all blurred together.

Roger woke the next morning with a throbbing head, and an aching gut. Almost as soon as he opened his eyes, he stumbled to the tiny bathroom of the flat he shared with Freddie and began to throw up into the toilet. Nothing but liquid came up. No surprise since he’d only ingested alcohol since lunch the previous day. He flushed the toilet when he was sure that his stomach was finally empty, and turned with the intent to get up and rinse out his mouth and nearly jumped out of his skin at the sight of Freddie looming in the doorway.

The blond groaned and turned back to hang his head over the toilet, just for the sake of hiding himself. The look he’d seen on Freddie’s face told him enough. He knew. He knew about Deaky, and why Roger had run and disappeared. And he was none too pleased.

“If you’re quite finished, I’d like a word with you after you brush your teeth, darling.” Freddie’s voice was flat, and emotionless which was just as scary if not more so than the look he’d been wearing.

When the drummer dared to turn and look, Freddie was gone from the door. He slowly stood on unsteady feet and managed to brush his teeth with concerted effort. He padded out to the main living area of the flat to see his room/band mate sitting in the one plush armchair they possessed, arms and legs crossed with a look of scorn on his face. Roger plopped himself down on the couch, wincing as the sudden movement jostled him and making his head twinge even more. They sat in silence, the time stretching on with only the sound of the clock ticking on the mantle to break it up.

“So, Roger, is there anything you might like to share with me, your best friend and closest confidant? Maybe something about, oh I don’t know, the fact that your soulmate mark appeared, and that our new bassist was the one to cause it?” Freddie said, his tone mild as if he were talking about the weather.

Roger winced again, both at the sound, and at the words. He looked at Freddie, who was still wearing that disapproving look. Roger stayed silent. What words could he say to the man? How could he tell him how twisted up he was inside, with a battle raging between his head and his heart and soul? His eyes began to burn and before he knew it, tears were flowing down his face as he stared down at his lap, lower lip trembling as he fought the urge to sob.

A moment later Roger felt the couch dip next to him and he was wrapped up in Freddie. 

“It’s ok, Rog, let go.” 

And Roger did. He let out a small keening sound and tears flowed fast and freely as he sobbed against Freddie’s shoulder.

“What do I do Freddie? What can I do? It’s supposed to be wrong! But it doesn’t  _ feel  _ wrong. When I’m with John, it feels like it’s meant to be that way. Being with him is so easy and effortless. My soul is.. is meant for him but it’s supposed to be  _ wrong _ ! I’m a cosmic fuck up” Roger hiccuped as he spoke into his best friend’s shoulder.

Freddie allowed the blond to cry against him, without once complaining about getting tears or snot on his dressing gown. This was more important than some length of satin. Roger felt Freddies hands moving up and down along his back, soothing him as he carried on crying like he was a small child instead of a fully grown man.

Once Roger had finally calmed down a bit, the dark haired man gently pushed the blond back a bit so that he could look him in the eyes. Roger was in a right state, tears running tracks down his face, eyes red and puffy and his nose running. He was an absolute mess. 

“Roger Meddows Taylor.” Uh oh, Roger knew something big was about to come from his best friend’s mouth. The three name call always meant something serious was coming. “There is nothing you  _ can  _ do, nor is there anything you  _ should  _ do besides being with John.” Freddie could tell he wasn’t being as convincing as he should. Time for a patented Freddie Mercury Speech.

“Roger, before you met John, your skin was blank.” Roger nodded in agreement, not quite sure where this was supposed to be going. “Did that make you wrong? Or bad? No, it didn’t. It just made you different. You were still Roger Taylor, drummer extraordinaire, and perpetual pain in my ass.”

“Hey!” Roger said, looking a little indignant at the last bit.

“Let me finish.” Freddie held up a hand to stop Roger from speaking further. “You didn’t have a mark on your skin, but it didn’t make you bad, or wrong, or a  _ cosmic fuck up _ . John being your soulmate doesn’t make you any of those things either, darling. It just makes you different, and since when has Roger Taylor ever given two fucks about what other people think of him?”

When Freddie put it that way, it was hard for Roger to argue against it. He didn’t  _ want  _ to argue against it. Roger had never let anyone else tell him who he was and what he was supposed to be. Not for a very, very long time. The absence of a mark on his skin had hurt for a good portion of his life, but he eventually learned that it didn’t matter. The mark, or lack thereof, didn’t define him as a person.

Roger blew out a sigh and wiped his face with the bottom half of his tee shirt. It was going to be thrown in the wash after this anyways. “I.. I know what you mean Freddie, but it’s just.. Hard, y’know? Thinking I’ve been one way my whole life and then suddenly.. That’s not what I am anymore.”

“You’re still Roger Meddows Taylor. That hasn’t changed. So your soulmate isn’t a woman? So what? Nothing wrong with that. John makes you happy, happier than I’ve seen you in a long time. The only thing that is wrong about this situation is how you ran out on him.” Freddie had been fairly soft with Roger up to that point. Stern, but caring. Now he was mad again. “You left your soulmate sobbing on the rehearsal room floor, leaving Brian and I to pick up the pieces while you ran away and got smashed.” 

That made the guilt that had been slowly pooling in his gut surge up to the forefront. The sound of that broken sob that had haunted him the previous day while he ran came back to him.

“I’m sorry Freddie, I shouldn’t have done that. I was being a coward.. Ow! What did you do that for?” Roger exclaimed when Freddie smacked him upside the head. He rubbed at the back of his head, glaring at Freddie. He wanted to give the man a right wallop at that moment, even though Roger knew deep down that he had deserved it somehow.

“I’m not the one you should be apologizing to, you idiot.” Roger looked at Freddie, confused for about a half a second before he remembered that Freddie was not the one he had run out on.

_ John. _

He needed to see John. He needed to explain, to apologize for what he had done. That is, if John would want to see him. He couldn’t blame the younger man if he never wanted to see Roger again. The pain of the bond not being complete would hurt, but it would fade over time, or so he’d heard. Freddie hadn’t said anything about the bassist quitting the band or anything as dramatic as Roger had done. The thought of John’s cry came to him again, and it felt like a kick in the teeth. He’d done that to his soulmate. The crushing feeling of rejection had gone through him the day before, but he’d been so panicked that it had sort of blended in with all of the other feelings.

He stood up suddenly, and marched towards the bathroom with every intent to shower and clean himself up before making his walk of shame over to John’s dorm. He knew that the brunet had classes all day today, but Roger would stand outside of that building all day if he had to in order to catch Deaky. He still felt every effect of his hangover. The nausea, the splitting headache, and overall feeling of being dirty and gross. By the time he actually made it to the bathroom, all of the movement and the energy he had expended in his talk and crying session with Freddie caught up to him. 

He knelt down in front of the toilet just as another wave of his stomach passed through him and he threw up once again. He would find John, and he would make this right, just as soon as the world stopped spinning, and his stomach settled.


	5. Seven Seas Of Rhye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger and John have a heart to heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is there to say except for The Feels I got writing this chapter.

John let out a deep sigh. He tried to focus on the paper in front of him, but the words just blurred together in front of him. He’d been trying in vain to get some sort of work done on this paper, but he just couldn’t concentrate. His mind kept drifting back to the previous day. It made his heart and soul ache with a dull throb. 

John had only been on the ground, crying into his hands for a few moments when he felt arms wrap around him. For a split second, he’d thought Roger had come back, but it wasn’t. These arms didn’t feel like the blond’s. They had been comforting nonetheless, and John didn’t shrug them off like he would do most people. 

He had cried for a while more, sniffling occasionally, only barely registering that the one who held him was whispering to him. Things about how it would be ok, and how he was going to ‘murder that idiot for doing this to John.’ There were more low whispers that John couldn’t make out and a different set of arms around him after the first pair released him. 

These arms were thinner, bonier, and longer. Brian had switched places with Freddie. John still hadn’t looked up, he just turned his face to bury against Brian’s shoulder while his overactive brain kept cycling through the recent events. The look on Roger’s face, the shock and terror, and the moment that he’d decided to run instead of face this.

John heard the sound of footsteps retreating, and concluded that Freddie had left him and Brian alone. He was pretty sure that Freddie was going to look for the drummer, and god help him whenever the singer did. It hadn’t taken long for the charismatic man to install himself as John’s self appointed big brother. The bassist had thought it odd that someone would so readily accept him, and feel so strongly without having a soulmate bond but it seemed that Freddie never did things in half measures when he had a good feeling about it.

“I’ve known Roger for a long time..” Brian suddenly said, startling John a bit. 

John pulled away from the guitarist and wiped his eyes with a sniffle. He should have been embarrassed at being seen in such a state, but right now he couldn’t care less. Being seen crying with puffy eyes and his face full of emotion was the least of his worries right now.

“For years, in fact, and I can tell you that this is.” Brian went on, “well not expected, but not surprising.”

John looked confused, his brows furrowing while he sniffed back more tears.

“Roger has never been one to express his emotions very well.” Brian looked contemplative as he continued speaking, like he was trying to find the right words to express his thoughts. “He might seem very straightforward when you first meet him, a what you see is what you get type of thing, but there’s so much more under there. It’s not my place to tell you about those things,” the curly haired man paused for a moment, gathering himself again, “but, what I can say is that, if Roger ran, it wasn’t because of you. It was something with himself.”

Brian reached out a hand and squeezed the younger man’s shoulder in a reassuring way.

“You should have seen the look on his face Brian,” John said so softly that it was barely above a whisper. “He looked terrified, like I was some kind of monster. I could  _ feel _ his fear. Even now,” John said as he fisted his hand over his own heart. “I can still feel it. The confusion, the fear and panic, and there’s nothing I can do about it!” His voice raised as he spoke, to an almost panicked sounding end.

Brian reached out to rest his hands on John’s shoulders. “Yes, there is. Roger is a more complicated person than people give him credit for. He just needs some time to wrap his head around it. If nothing else, Freddie will beat some sense into him.” He’d said this last bit with a small smile on his face, like the idea of Freddie kicking Roger’s arse was funny. John smiled a bit too, just as amused at the idea. He couldn’t help but think that Roger deserved a bit of a wallop for what he’d done, even though John would never dream of being the one to do it.

“I can see your point Brian,” John began, his voice more even and sure than it had been before, even though there was still a myriad of emotions cycling through him. This was going to be hard to get used to. He was so used to bottling his own feelings up and keeping them hidden, that the prospect of someone being able to know them innately was absolutely terrifying. “I just.. I just wish that he’d stayed and talked about it. We’re.. we’re soulmates. We’re supposed to do this together.”

That small smile appeared on the guitarist’s face again. “You will, once Roger has pulled his head out of his arse. I just want you to remember that when he does, try not to be too cruel. He’s more sensitive than he lets on. Now, I think this means practice is officially over.”

John was pulled from his memory when there was a knock on his door. He stood, and went to open it only to see another resident of the hall. John thought his name was Thomas or something to that effect.

“There’s some guy down in the entry asking about which room is yours.”

John’s heart pounded in his chest. “Did he say what his name was?”

Thomas shook his head. “No, but he’s got long blond hair, and is very insistent on seeing you. Told him I’d see if you were in. Are you?” He raised his eyebrow in a question. John could understand the guy’s concern. Roger was a bit of a handful at the best of times, and most definitely did not seem like the kind of person that quiet, shy John Deacon would associate with. 

“Yeah, send him up.” 

Thomas nodded and walked back down the hall to the stairwell. As soon as he was out of sight, John began tidying up his room. It wasn’t dirty, so to speak but he did make sure the dirty laundry was all in its basket, and tidied up his stacks of books and records and threw the sheet and duvet up on his bed in a sort of halfhearted attempt to make it look made.

John had just finished putting away the last of the tools that had been scattered on his desk when he heard the high and raspy voice of Roger from his doorway.

“Knock knock.”

John turned, and there was Roger, as beautiful as ever. He was paler than normal and there were shadows beneath those gorgeous blue eyes, but none of it diminished his good looks. 

“Come on in.” John tried to sound casual, schooling his face to a more neutral expression. This was a bit silly of him to do, because he knew that Roger would be able to feel his nerves. He still wanted to put on a brave front. 

Roger stepped farther into the room, gently shutting the door behind him. This wasn’t the kind of talk that he or John would want broadcast to the whole of his residence hall. John turned the chair of his desk around and sat down in it, crossing his legs in an attempt to not run straight over to the blond. He gestured to the hastily made bed.

“You can sit, if you want.”

Roger shuffled over to the end of the bed and sat down, clasping his hands together over his knees, his eyes looking down at his own feet. The pair sat there in silence, neither one exactly sure what to say. There was so much hanging in the air between them, they didn’t know where to start.

“John…” Roger started, and then stopped. He looked up, his blue eyes shining at just the thought of what he was going to say, and the guilt of what he had done swirling inside of him that had increased tenfold when he laid eyes on the brunet. “I am so, so sorry.” His words were barely above a whisper.

John stared back at him, and the impulse to move closer to Roger ran through him. He resisted, crossing his arms over his chest and giving the blond a ‘go on’ gesture.

Roger sighed deeply, looked down at his feet again, gathered his nerve and then looked up and started rambling, letting every thought in his head go without thinking. “I’m sorry that I ran away from you. I was scared, of what it meant, of what it made me. I shouldn’t have left you like that, and fucking hell, it hurt so bad to leave you there. I know that I was a right shit for doing it, and I don’t know how to tell you just how fucking sorry I am. You are this amazing person, Deaky. Smart, and funny, and talented and so gorgeous. I was an idiot to run away from you. To let my own selfish insecurities push me away.” 

“You’re right, you are an idiot.” John said, but his words didn’t hold the bite that they should have. “I understand, Rog. But I was going through the same feelings you were. You’re my soulmate. The other half of me, like I am you. It scares the hell out of me Roger. I don’t tend to let people know my feelings, and you,” John pointed at the drummer for emphasis, “are going to be able to feel every single one of them, no matter how badly I want it to stay hidden. I can’t hide from you. I don’t  _ want  _ to hide from you.” His last few words were spoken softly, like it was a secret he was sharing. “But you have to let me in. You can’t run away because you’re scared or insecure or frustrated. It’s not fair to me, or to you.”

Roger stood up when John stopped speaking and moved across the small room, which only took two steps and knelt down on the floor in front of John. He reached up and gently pried John’s arms apart, little sparks running through both men as he did. He laced his fingers together with his soulmate’s. The tender gesture made John’s eyes begin to burn, and he could see that the blond’s blue eyes were also swimming with tears.

“I can’t promise that I won’t get scared, or that I’ll be one hundred percent alright all the time. It’s going to be a lot of learning, and it’s a lot to come to terms with. I promise I’ll try. I will do my damndest to make it up to you, and I promise that I won’t run away again. We’re soulmates, and even though it terrifies more than anything else in my life ever has, I will face it with you.”

Roger had spoken softly, looking up at John with pleading eyes. The man had literally gone down on his knees and begged for forgiveness. How could John deny him that? He had spoken the truth, which was all he had wanted from the drummer.

John felt a tear roll down his face, and he brought one of their joined hands up to his face and lightly pressed his lips against Roger’s knuckles, sending little bolts through the blond man. 

“I forgive you, Rog. Never do that to me again. I don’t think I could survive feeling like that more than once.” 

Roger nodded, and smiled just the tiniest bit.

The two men stayed in John’s room in the residence hall for hours after that. John showed Roger his record collection, which he had found impressive, even if a lot of the music wasn’t to his taste. He explained the projects he was working on for class, trying to keep everything to the simplest terms he could. None of it felt forced or awkward, at least, not much. Roger still caught himself staring at John, and feeling the urge to get closer. He pushed down those urges, stopping from jumping in head first, even if everything about the brunet made him want to dive in. He didn’t want to test the limits of how far he could go before freaking out. He’d made a promise and he was determined to keep it. He knew himself well enough to know what the consequences could be if he didn’t think things through. It wasn’t one of his strong suits, but for John, he was willing to try. 

They were laying on John’s bed, on their sides facing each other, propped up on an elbow. Their legs brushed against one another as they talked and laughed. It hadn’t escaped Roger what position they were in. It would have been so easy to press himself against Deaky, flip him on his back, and kiss him senseless. He was still debating the idea, half listening to John’s story about when he’d been in his previous band, his attention mainly focused on the way the younger man’s lips were moving, when a sudden loud rumble emanated from the vicinity of Roger’s midsection.

The blond man was suddenly aware of just how hungry he was. He hadn’t eaten anything since lunch the day before, but he’d been so queasy earlier in the day, he was afraid he might throw it all up again. He’d been so focused on finding John, that eating had been the last thing on his mind once he was well enough to leave the flat. John let out a laugh at the sound and the sudden sheepish look that Roger wore. It was like music to the drummer’s ears. 

“Sorry.. I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I guess I’m a bit hungry.” He said with a small laugh of his own, even though his stomach did hurt a little bit from the emptiness. 

“We can’t have you wasting away, can we? The rhythm section only works when there is a bass  _ and _ a drummer.” Deaky said as he sat up and scooted to the end of the bed, reaching for the boots that were neatly set on the floor there. “Imagine the headlines. ‘Student band falls apart after drummer dies from lack of fish and chips,’ “ he teased as he stuffed his feet into his shoes.

Roger mocked a pout, trying to look offended, but the sly smile that John gave him over his shoulder made his heart flutter for a moment. “At least you might get some pity gigs out of it.” He said as he swung his legs off of the side of the bed and pulled his trainers onto his own feet. 

Once they left John’s room to begin their quest to fill their stomachs, both men walked further apart than they wanted to. It was an unspoken agreement between them. Same sex couples were still looked down on. Roger didn’t quite know what to call them. Were they a couple? Boyfriends? Lovers? John was his soulmate, and that seemed like the best choice. There were still a lot of questions that needed to be answered, but for now, he was just going to enjoy spending time with his Deaky.

The fish and chip shop that the brunet led him to was also popular among the university crowd, because the food was decent, the portion sizes were enormous, and most importantly they were cheap. Once again, Roger insisted on paying, and this time he didn’t let John talk him into splitting the bill. He was the one whose stomach had made them venture out for food. What they didn’t expect, was that there would be people who knew the bassist hanging around the same place. It was inevitable that they would eventually run into people who they knew, and it only took a glance between the two to agree that they weren’t going to announce their soulmate status to a bunch of strangers.

This thing between them was still so new, and both men were very aware of what the consequences might be if anyone found out. John introduced Roger to the people who came up to them while they ate their bounty in the tiny chip shop as his band mate. It was the truth, but they did expand on the full facts.

“Hello John, how are you doing? I don’t ever see you out this late on a school night,” a high feminine voice said, pulling both men from the conversation they’d been having about Brian’s new prospects for gigs. The next one they had in the coming weeks would be John’s first performance with the group and he was nervous. 

“Hello Monica. Uhm, I’m just having dinner with my mate. He dropped by my dorm earlier, so we decided to have a lad’s night.” John said as he looked up and recognized the pretty red headed girl as being one who attended the same college he did. She was studying a different field than he was, but they’d run into each other a few times and were on an acquaintance level of friendship. She seemed friendly enough, and was pleasant to talk to at parties.

“And you thought you’d take him to the best chippie in the neighborhood?” She said with a smile, as her eyes slid over to look at Roger. “I’m Monica. I go to the same college as John.” Her eyes were looking up and down Roger’s visible top half, scanning from the top of his blond head to where his bottom half disappeared beneath the table. 

Roger knew that look. He’d given it to so many girls in the past, and they had done it right back. It was an assessment. Maybe something in here had made her think that she might be meeting her soulmate.

“Roger,” he said with an incline of his head. “John and I are in a band together.” It was nothing but the truth. 

“I didn’t know you were in a band!” She said with surprise as she looked back over at the bassist.

“I only joined a few weeks ago. We haven’t even had our first gig together yet.” He said as a blush blush crept up his cheeks. This shy around people he knew very little Deaky made Roger’s heart skip a beat. It was adorable. Almost as adorable as the jealous Deaky he was about to get a glimpse of.

“Maybe I’ll come see you then,” her face turned back towards Roger, and the look in her eyes added on ‘and maybe even more of you’ to the end of that sentence. 

Roger felt a surge of jealousy rise in his stomach. He knew it wasn’t him feeling that way, so when he looked over at John, he saw how the brunet’s posture had stiffened, and there was a set to his mouth that was unhappy if you knew what to look for. John really was good at hiding his emotions. It made the drummer smile, causing his Deaky to glare back at him.

“Sounds good. It’s always nice to know that someone will be watching us. Anyways, I need to be getting John back, before his carriage turns into a pumpkin.” They had finished their food a couple of minutes before Monica had come over, and had been getting ready to take off when she’d walked over.

Both men stood and gave a nod and a goodbye to Monica. Roger could almost feel her eyes on his back as they walked away. Once they had exited the shop, Roger started to laugh while he pulled his cigarettes from his pocket. He lit one and gave it to John before lighting up his own.

“Oh my god, you were jealous Deaky.” Roger said as they walked, closer now than they had before, their arms brushing against one another.

“Why would I be? It wasn’t obvious at all that she was trying to flirt with you, while I was right there.” John deadpanned before taking another drag from the cigarette in his fingers. “I know it’s best that we don’t go announcing this to the world, but still.”

“I thought it was adorable.” Roger said, and he reached over between them and laced his fingers together with John’s and squeezing for just a moment before pulling back again. It was all he could dare to do out on the street. “You getting jealous, that is. I know. I’m not sure I could handle the reactions. Not right now at least. I’m still getting used to it.”

They finally arrived back in front of John’s residence hall, and Roger bit back the urge to invite himself in again. He was pretty sure there were rules against people staying overnight, not to mention he wasn’t sure just how ready he was to spend the whole night with John. 

“Goodnight John.” He said quietly as they stood at the base of the steps leading up to the dark building.

John smiled at him again, studied the space around them, and just like had the last time they had been here, he leaned in and said, “Isn’t this the part where you kiss me goodnight?”

Roger looked around the area, his eyes taking in the fact that they were alone. 

“That could be arranged.” And he leaned forward, not stopping himself this time. One hand reached up and rested against the side of John’s neck, and he closed the gap between them. Their lips connected and it felt like the world stood still around them. There was nothing but him and John. They managed to keep it chaste, holding on to their willpower by the tiniest thread, just their lips touching. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity before they pulled away from each other. Both of their eyes were shining, not with tears, but with happiness. “Goodnight John. I’ll see you at practice.”

Roger started walking away, when John called after him. “I have classes all day tomorrow, and in the morning after that, but that afternoon I’ll be free.”

Roger turned around, and saw John looking shyly at him. Was his sweet Deaky asking him on a date in a roundabout way? It was cute.

“I’ll pick you up at three? I have to work the stall until then. We can see a movie or something.” Roger said with a grin of his own.

John nodded and gave him a wave before disappearing into his building, a big dopey grin on his face.


	6. My Fairy King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Roger makes good on his promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The feels. Just.. the feels.

For the next day and a half, John felt like he was floating on air. Was this what everyone talked about when they spoke of soulmates? This lightness and giddiness that seemed to follow him wherever he went? No, it couldn’t be, or else everyone who had a soulmate would constantly be happy and he knew that was impossible. It must just be a side effect of having the souls connect so recently. There was an urge inside of him to go to Roger nearly every moment of the day, and that he knew for a fact was one of the early signs of the souls merging. 

The souls wanted to bond, to be together as close and as much as possible so that they could meld and settle. Many people who had found their soulmate would take days or even weeks off from work and school in order to solidify the bond. For John and Roger, this would not be an option. If they asked for time away to deal with their soulmate issues, it would inevitably raise questions about who the person was. That fact didn’t stop John from smiling whenever he was shirtless when showering or getting dressed, and he looked down to see the black crown and ‘R’ that was set into his skin.

He was still trying to decide what top to wear with the velvet trousers he had picked out, when Roger’s voice rang through his room.

“The black one.” John nearly jumped out of his skin at the words. He was still standing shirtless in the middle of his room, facing the mirror on the inside of his wardrobe door holding the two different shirts against himself. 

“Jesus Rog! Are you trying to give me a cardiac?” The brunet said as he tossed the blue shirt on to his bed before tugging on the simple form fitting black button up. He was very aware of Roger’s eyes darting down to look at the top of the crown that was peeking out from the waistband of the trousers. Roger’s eyes traveled back up Deaky’s form as John did up the buttons, almost looking disappointed when the skin was covered up. The blond looked gorgeous, but that was nothing new. He could make a burlap sack look good and John envied that fact.

“You know I’d revive you Deaky.” The drummer said as he moved closer into John’s room, subtly using his foot to close the door so that no one would be able to easily see in. He reached up when they were less than a foot apart, and unbuttoned the top two closures, exposing part of the bassist’s sternum. He brushed at John’s shoulders and chest, flattening out the fabric before resting his hands on the younger man’s waist “With a lot of mouth to mouth.”

John rolled his eyes at the dirty line, but still smiled. “My hero.” He leaned forward and brushed his lips against Roger’s. It was the barest hint of a kiss. He pulled back and Roger chased his lips for a moment before pulling back and looking like there was fire in his eyes. John knew that feeling because it was inside of him too. Even that little bit of intimacy of being close and touching had sparked something in their souls, urging them for more. They couldn’t. Not here, not now. And not until they were both ready to take a step in that direction. Neither man was sure of how intimacy like that would work between two blokes, but they would figure it out sometime. In the future, when they had more privacy and were secure in the knowledge that neither one of them would freak out.

Roger coughed and took a step back, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one had pushed the door open. It was still nearly shut as it had been when he’d moved it earlier. John grabbed his boots and tugged them on while speaking. “So, what’s the plan then?”

Roger put on a fake pout. “I thought you were going to make the plans. You asked me to go out today.” It wasn’t true. John had merely stated his schedule and Roger had been the one to suggest the date. Was this a date? It sure felt like one. He was going on a date with a man. His band mate. His  _ soulmate _ . The feeling was still weird, and was taking some getting used to. Roger still hadn’t fully wrapped his head around it.

John gave him a look that was supposed to be a glare, but he couldn’t hold it. It quickly changed to a smile. “Well then I guess all of my fretting over an outfit was for nothing.”

“Well, they’re showing A Clockwork Orange over at the cinema, and I might have a couple of tickets stashed away..” he made like he was searching his pockets for a few moments before pulling out two paper tickets from the pockets of his leather jacket. “Ah yes. There might also be a little Italian place near it that could be acceptable for after.”

Roger had wracked his brain for a solid day after telling John he’d pick him up today. He’d said it without thinking, just wanting to spend time with the brunet. He’d finally remembered John mentioning that he’d read the book and had wanted to see the movie. It wasn’t exactly to Roger’s taste but it was the least he could do to start on his journey of making it up to his soulmate. A simple dinner and film date seemed like a good place to begin. This was normal for soulmates, or anyone who was dating. The only difference was that his date was another man. Not just any man. It was  _ John _ .

“Oh Rog, you know just how to treat a girl.” Deaky said, fluttering his lashes and putting on a higher voice.

Roger stiffened a bit. He knew it was a joke, but he remembered how he’d treated women before this. He never treated them badly, but he’d never put thought into wooing them. His only goal had been to get them into bed. This was uncharted territory in so many ways. He swallowed quickly and gestured over his shoulder to the door.

“We should get going. It starts in about..” he checked his watch, “half an hour. It’ll take half that time to get to the theater.” 

John nodded and grabbed his coat. He sensed the bit of uneasiness that came from the blond when he’d joked about him treating a girl. The walk to the cinema was filled with chatter between the two with an easiness that had been there since the moment they had played together at the bassist’s audition. They talked about school, and the music the band played, John telling Roger about ways he wanted to change up some of the bass lines. John knew that he’d have been wary to bring these things up with the guys so soon after joining, but his connection with Roger made him more bold. Not because he was secure in the soulmate bond, but even before they’d known about that. Whether or not he would bring any ideas to Brian and Freddie any time soon was up in the air.

Roger gave their tickets to the doorman, and they stood in line for snacks, agreeing to share popcorn and a drink, but getting their own sweets. By the time they made it into the theater, it was beginning to roll the opening credits. There were only a few other people in the theater, and John and Roger basically had their pick of seats. They looked at each other, and gave secretive grins before hopping up to the back row and settling down in the cool darkness.

John was put in charge of the popcorn bag, holding it in his lap so that both men could easily reach it. They sat in silence for a good while, John engrossed in watching the film, while Roger’s attention was split between the screen and watching his soulmate’s expressions react to the happenings. Roger faced the screen again, aware of their forearms pressed along one another on the shared armrest. He reached out with just his pinky finger, and hooked it around John’s where it rested against his. He felt John shift next to him, and he turned his head just a bit to look at the younger man. The bassist was looking back at him, then down at their linked small fingers and then back up to Roger’s face. He gave a tiny smile, and turned back to watch the movie before taking another sip of their shared fizzy drink.

When the movie was finished, and the house lights began to rise, Roger and John reluctantly pulled their linked fingers away from each other. As soon as they exited the cinema, John began his review of the movie. Roger nodded along, smiling as John gestured and went on about the differences from the book while being led along the street to their next destination. The blond interjected with questions of his own, more interested in John’s reactions and thoughts than his own opinions.

The little hole in the wall Italian place that the drummer led them to was already packed for peak dinner time, but they managed to get a table from the hostess only a few minutes after arriving. By sheer luck, they managed to get a booth in the back, tucked away in a corner where they would get the most amount of privacy they could in the cramped little place. 

Once they were seated and had menus in hand and had wine on the way, the waitress trying to flirt with both John and Roger the entire time, John looked around the space. It was filled with people of all descriptions. There were couples, and families, and groups of friends all eating and drinking and laughing. Two young men having a meal here together could go unnoticed. It was the type of small family owned place where you came to enjoy food and company.

The conversation had moved away from the movie, and into science fiction, which both men were enthusiastic about. Roger’s face lit up when he talked about his collection of magazines and novels. The joy of the topic flowed through both men, moving back and forth through their bond, making it settle just a little bit more as it felt the men bonding with each other. The server returned with their glasses of wine, and both men ordered their food, John somehow managing to not snap at her when her flirting became more overt towards them. Being the shyer one of the two, it seemed that the bassist had lost a bit of appeal to her as Roger was naturally more charming than John himself was. He never flirted back with the woman, but he was still  _ Roger _ . He didn’t need to flirt with her.

That little thread of jealousy kicked back in, and Roger reached under the table with his foot, hooking his ankle around Deaky’s and flashing him a brilliant smile just like the one he’d given after seeing Monica at the fish and chip shop when his soulmate had also gotten jealous. The server had walked away again to put in their orders.

“Seeing you get jealous again is just as adorable as it was the first time round.” Roger spoke quietly, his voice barely audible above the din around them. He leaned forward across the table a little bit when he dragged the toe of his shoe up along John’s calf. “And very sexy, if I’m being honest Deaks.”

John shivered just a bit, and looked around and saw no eyes on them. He leaned forward a little bit as well. “You should always be honest with me Rog.” He said in a matching flirtatious tone.

They stayed like that as they kept talking, throwing cheesy chat up lines at one another that made them laugh quietly. Their little bubble was broken when the woman who had been waiting on them arrived with their food, both men leaning back in their seats like they were on fire. The look the waitress gave them spoke volumes, and both men felt a flush heat up in their cheeks. How much had she seen before she’d come over? John felt fear creeping into him, his own and that of his soulmate, of possibly being found out. The woman gave them a look before turning and walking away.

John could see the urge to bolt in Roger’s eyes, like an animal trapped in a cage. He reached across under the table with the hand closest to the wall and hooked his pinky around Roger’s like they’d done in the theater, with a silent plea on his face. ‘Please don’t run. Act normal. We can get through this.’ Is what it said.

Roger’s finger tightened around his for a moment before pulling away and he began to dig into his pasta. John sighed with relief, and began to eat as well, a silence falling between them as they quickly ate. They weren’t going to run, but they weren’t going to stick around any longer than necessary. After they’d finished their food and another glass of wine each, the server brought over their check, her demeanor much different than it had been before. She wasn’t acting cold towards them, but the flirtation had stopped. None of the other patrons were looking at them, and the rest of the waitstaff seemed not to care either. It was a bit of a relief, hopefully the waitress would keep her suspicions to herself and just write them off.

They paid the bill. Well, John did. He’d insisted after Roger had bought the film tickets and popcorn. They made a quick exit, and as soon as they hit the street, the blond lit up cigarettes for both of them as they walked with no real destination in mind. The sun had set by now, and the two men walked closer together than they had in the daylight, their arms brushing against one another.

Once they’d gotten a couple of blocks away from the restaurant, John spoke.

“Thank you, for not running.” He took a drag from his cigarette, eyes still trained ahead. “I could tell you wanted to, and I kind of wanted to as well.”

“I promised you that I wouldn’t run.” Roger said, bumping his shoulder against Deaky’s playfully. He had been so tempted to leave, but John’s eyes and that one small touch had helped ground him again. He’d found strength there that he didn’t know he had. Truthfully, he didn’t have it. He’d borrowed it from the brunet. “I promised that I would try, and I am trying Deaky. You make me want to.” 

The words were merely the truth, and they scared the hell out of Roger. He’d never thought he would feel this way about anyone, let alone someone as gorgeous and sweet as John. The more time he spent with him, the more he stopped caring about what set of genitals his soulmate had. He was just  _ John _ . Just his Deaky, his soulmate. The other half of him, and Roger found more and more that he was probably the luckiest person on earth to be matched with him.

Their wandering had led them through a small park. The moonlight, and seclusion gave the drummer a slightly wicked idea. Halfway down a dark path, Roger grabbed on to John’s arm and tugged him through the trees. John let out a small yelp, and the blond made a shushing noise before backing John against a tree just off the path. They were in near darkness, the only light coming from the moon peeking through the trees. It was a semi secluded spot, and anyone would have to really look to see the two men hiding there. 

“Rog? What-?” John’s words were cut off by the press of Roger’s lips against his own. His protesting died at the touch, his arms moving to wrap around the blond’s shoulders, and pulling him closer. Roger’s tongue ran along the seam of the brunet’s lips, and he eagerly complied with the silent question. His lips parted and as soon as their tongues touched, both men let out soft groans. Roger’s hands went to rest on John’s hips, his fingertips pressing into the clothed skin. It was a kiss just like he’d had so many times before, but it was also very different. No girl he’d ever kissed before had given Roger the rush that kissing John right now did.

John ignored the feeling of the tree bark scratching at his back through his silk shirt, and pulled Roger in as close as he could until their front halves were pressed firmly against each other from hip to chest. The bassist whimpered when Roger pulled his mouth away, but was soon gasping with pleasure as the drummer pressed kisses along his jaw and down his neck. John’s hands tangled in the blond locks, tugging at them gently when he felt Roger’s teeth against the skin where his neck met his shoulder. The brunet shivered when Roger bit down gently on the spot, his tongue lapping against his skin. 

John hitched a leg up around the drummer’s waist and rolled his hips forward, making both men very aware of the hardness pressing between them. Roger hissed in a breath as his hips rolled back against Deaky’s. He lips traveled up John’s neck again before hungrily taking his lips once more, their tongues dancing against one another.

Through the foggy haze of lust that had fallen over him, the brunet heard something. It was a noise that was different from the sounds that were coming from himself and Roger. He pulled his lips from Roger’s and turned his head, listening for the sound again.

“Deaks, why did you-?”

“Shhh.” John said, his hands moving away from Roger’s hair to rest on his shoulders, gently pushing him back a bit. He looked at Roger and he had the strongest urge to pull him back in for more kisses. His lips were pink, wet and slightly swollen. There was a flush to his cheeks and glazed look in his eyes. His breaths were coming in small pants of air. The sound came again. It was voices, loud and deep. Men. From the way it sounded, they were probably right pissed. This was not good. A bunch of drunk men coming across two young men making out against a tree in the dark could hold no positive outcome.

John’s body stiffened, and dread curled through him. He could tell the exact moment when it hit Roger as well, because he became more alert, the lust in his eyes fading to be replaced by a similar look of fear that he’d had in the restaurant earlier. The urge to run. This time, John agreed with him. He knew his own face mirrored that exact expression. He let his leg down from around Roger’s waist as quickly and quietly as he could. He felt Roger’s hand grasp his own, and as if they were one, they began to stalk off deeper into the trees. It wasn’t a large park by any means, but they did their best to stay hidden as they slunk between trees, with Roger in the lead. 

Their hands stayed connected the whole time as they moved farther from the voices, right up until they broke through the line of trees and out onto the sidewalk of one street bordering the park. They released each other’s hands just before reaching the pavement, and brushed themselves off, doing their best to act casual, just like two young mates who’d taken a stupid shortcut through the park instead of using the pathways like you were supposed to.

The two shared a glance, and breathed out sighs of relief before smiling at each other. The adrenaline high of nearly being caught finally catching up to them. Roger looked around and recognized the neighborhood they were in.

  
  


“We’re not too far from Freddie and my flat.” Roger said, gesturing for John to follow him. 

“Trying to take me back to yours are you?” John teased as he walked next to Roger. 

The blond pulled out his cigarettes and lit one up. “Maybe it was all part of the plan, baby.” He said before blowing out a puff of smoke, followed by a cheeky grin.

“You absolute cad! What kind of man do you think I am?” John feigned being offended, placing one hand over his heart and putting on a face of shock and horror.

Roger laughed at the little act, and John used his distraction to snatch the stick from the blond’s hand to take a drag before passing it back. 

“I’m hoping you’re the kind who’ll say yes to a nightcap.” Roger answered with a dramatic waggle of his eyebrows. 

“Now you’re trying to liquor me up! How dare you offend my delicate sensibilities?” John was having fun playing this part. It felt natural, like it should be. The ability to tease Roger came as easy as breathing.

“Delicate, eh? Well then I promise that I’ll treat you like fine porcelain china.” Roger reached between them and ran the back of one finger along the back of John’s arm in a subtle move so that no one else on the street would take notice of it if they looked.

John suppressed a shiver, and bit down on his lower lip to stop himself from making a sound. They walked for a few more minutes in a comfortable silence. They were both lost in their own thoughts contemplating their snogging session in the park, and the ideas of what could have been when they reached Roger’s flat.

Their wanderings after dinner had gone on for a few hours, including their time in the park, and it had become quite late by that time.

John followed Roger up the stairs to the flat he shared with their lead singer, the blond whispering when they reached the door. “Don’t want to wake Freddie. He’s an absolute nightmare if you wake him up in the middle of the night. He threw his shoes at me one time when..” Roger quickly cut off the sentence as he opened the door, a tense look crossing his face. Deaky was pretty sure he was about to end that sentence with something about having a bird over, and as much as he wanted Roger to feel comfortable enough to talk to him about anything, he was glad he didn’t actually have to hear it at that moment.

The place was tiny, and crammed full of all sorts of trinkets, statues and knick knacks on every available surface. There were two worn, but plush, couches in the living space, along with a large arm chair. The furniture dominated the space and there was color everywhere that John could see even in the dark of the night. It felt very home-y. Well lived in. Once they were both inside, Roger shut and relocked the door before taking John’s hand and leading him through the cramped space. This very much reminded John of sneaking through the homes of girlfriends he’d had before to avoid getting caught by parents, and the comparison was actually very fitting in that moment.

They made a stop by the kitchen, where Roger grabbed a bottle of vodka from the back of a cabinet, and two tea mugs. John guessed that any actual drinking cups were currently in need of a wash. Or, Freddie and Roger just didn’t have any. John knew they weren’t exactly flush with cash. He wasn’t either. Cups were cups right?

Roger ushered him into his own room, gently closing the door behind them before flicking on the lamp next to his bed. The room was no bigger than the dorm room John lived in, and was crammed full with even more stuff than he had himself. The laundry basket was overflowing with clothes, and even more were poking out of the wardrobe and dresser. There were stacks of records on shelves along with several scifi novels and magazines. There was a pile of textbooks on the small desk along with several pencils and scraps of paper.

Roger was clearly not expecting company, but John was ok with that. 

“Sorry about the mess.” Roger said as he kicked his shoes off, only looking a tiny bit sheepish. He hopped onto the small unmade bed and sat up against the headboard before patting the spot next to him with a smile. “Come on Deaky, I don’t bite.” He opened the bottle of booze and poured shots into each of the mugs while John crawled in to settle next to him. Their bodies were pressed side to side, flush from shoulder to feet.

“I’d probably believe you more, if I didn’t have solid proof that wasn’t true.” He said with a small smile, one hand taking the offered mug while the other moved to press fingertips against the blossoming hickey at the junction between his neck and shoulder. Roger smiled cheekily as he held up his mug for a cheers. John gently tapped the edge of his cup to the blond’s before they both threw back the shots. Each man pulled a face afterwards. It was high octane cheap stuff that felt more like drinking petrol than liquor, but at least it did the job.

Roger poured another shot for each of them, and they took it with the same amount of enthusiasm they’d had for the first one. The taste did not get any better the second time around, and Roger set the bottle on his nightstand, along with both of their mugs.

The boys sat in silence for a while, Roger grabbing his spare pack of cigarettes from the windowsill along with the ashtray he kept there. He lit up a cigarette and the men sat in the silence, smoking and staring out of the window and up at the moon and stars. John settled further down in the bed, resting his head against Roger’s shoulder. The privacy of the little room in the flat made John feel more comfortable, and when Roger moved his arm to wrap around his shoulders, fingers brushing along his upper arm, he also felt safe. Secure. This was where he was meant to be.

“Rog,” John whispered out into the lamplit room.

“Yeah Deaks?” Roger’s reply was just as soft as he stamped out the end of the cigarette and placed the ashtray and pack back on the windowsill.

“Can I… Can I stay the night?” The two shots of vodka they’d just had gave him the tiniest bit of courage.

Roger stiffened just a little bit. John wanted to stay the night? In this tiny, cramped, messy room with him? This was more uncharted territory. Roger had never had someone ask to stay the night. They usually just passed out after sex and either retreated in the early hours while he was still asleep or stayed until morning and he ushered them out. There was never a purposeful intent of staying over.

John sensed the uneasiness from Roger, “It’s ok if you don’t want me to, I can leave. I can go back to my dorm.” He made to get up, fearing that he’d messed up, and tried to push Roger into something he wasn’t comfortable with too soon. 

Roger’s arm tightened around John’s shoulders, holding him in place. “No! I don’t.. I don’t want you to go.” He said. “I just don’t know how to do this.” His voice was soft, “I’ve never had someone just ask to stay the night. There’s usually some strings attached..” A blush crept up onto his cheeks, and John understood what he meant. People who stayed the night were usually conquests, notches in a bedpost. John was different. He was his bandmate, his friend, his soulmate, not just another person he would never see again.

“You know that I would never do anything you’re uncomfortable with Rog, honestly that wasn’t my intent.” John said as he sat up straighter, one hand reaching up and placing a fingertip under the blond’s chin and turning his face so that they were looking at each other again. There was some uncertainty in Roger’s face, but there was something underneath that, a shining in his eyes of something deeper, something more. “I just don’t want to be away from you. Not tonight. Just the thought of having to leave you right now..” John’s words got caught in his throat. They had bonded so much over the last several hours, and now that they were as alone as they could be, not having to hide or keep apart, his soul ached to stay this way for as long as possible.

“I know, it’s the same for me, baby.” Roger said as he leaned in and nestled his face against John’s neck, breathing in his scent for just a moment. “Ok, you can borrow some of my pyjamas. I’ll even let you use my toothbrush.” He pulled away and smiled that cheeky little grin. He clambered out of the bed and went to his dresser, pulling out a pair of plaid pyjama bottoms and a plain tee shirt that he tossed over to John.

Both men blushed as they changed into the sleep clothes, each giving the other surreptitious glances as they did. They both had the impulse to touch skin to skin when it was presented to them, but they fought it back. This was not the time. They took turns in the small bathroom taking care of business, and true to his word, Roger presented John with his toothbrush to use.

When John returned to the bedroom, he found Roger already half under the covers, waiting for him. His hands were picking at a loose thread on the duvet. He was clearly nervous, fidgeting as he was. John gave him a soft smile as he gently closed the door and moved across the room and climbed into the bed. He tucked himself under the covers, and tugged Roger down with him. Both men laid on their sides facing each other after the blond turned the lamp off, the room now only lit by the moonlight coming through the window next to the bed. 

Roger reached out and ran his fingers across John’s cheek before leaning in and pressing his lips against the other man’s. This kiss was sweeter than the ones they’d shared in the park. Their lips moved against one another, their bodies coming in closer. John wrapped an arm around Roger’s waist and held him tight. They pulled away from each other and smiled gently to one another in the dim moonlight.

“Goodnight Rog.” John said with a small sigh, his head tucking into the space just below the drummer’s chin, the blond’s arm making for his pillow.

Roger pressed a kiss to the top of John’s head, and whispered back, “Goodnight John.”

Both men closed their eyes, and drifted off into unconsciousness to the sound of each other’s breathing in the quiet darkness.


	7. White Queen (As It Began)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Roger wake up the next morning and explore more of their relationship with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All aboard the smut train, destination Dealor.

Roger’s brain slowly woke up from the dream he had been in. It had been filled with inky marks against creamy pale skin, dark hair and hypnotic green grey eyes. He registered a warm weight pressing over part of his body, and he froze for just a moment, his body going stiff. He looked down and was greeted with the sight of fluffy brown hair, and a head resting against his chest. He relaxed when he remembered that John had spent the night. As he woke more he could feel John’s body where it was touching his. The slight puffs of breath across his chest, the arm wrapped around his waist, and the leg that had slotted between his own sometime in the night as the men shifted in their sleep.

Roger had one arm wrapped around the bassist, and his fingers slowly started to make circles against the still sleeping man’s side. It was such a foreign sensation, but it felt all too familiar to him as so many things with John had. The blond felt like he could get used to this, waking up with John in his arms every day. The thought made a small smile cross his lips. 

He didn’t know how long he laid there just basking in the feeling of John against him when he felt the other man stir. The arm around his waist tightened a little and John took in a deep breath. Roger looked down as he felt the brunet’s head shift and saw that he was staring up at the drummer with bleary eyes. 

“Hallo.. “ John said in a quiet, still sleep drunk voice, a smile showing his gap tooth grin.

“Hi.” Roger said back just as quietly. The hand not wrapped around Deaky moved to brush the unruly waves of brown hair from the man’s face in a tender gesture that the blond wasn’t used to. It felt right to do it though. John shifted and curled up more tightly against Roger, and that was when he noticed that both men had morning wood. Roger sucked in a breath when John’s leg moved, his thigh rubbing against the drummer’s half hard cock through the layers of fabric.

It took a moment for the younger man to notice the tension that had begun in the other man’s body. He was still only half awake, but he was much more alert when he felt the rigid erection that was against him.

“I’m sorry Rog, I didn’t mean to..” he started to pull away, not wanting to make his soulmate uncomfortable with the situation. He was stopped though, as Roger’s arm tightened around him, keeping him close.

“It’s ok Deaky.. it felt.. it feels good.” It felt amazing. Even through the fabric of the clothes, Roger could feel heat radiating off of John. The press of his soulmate’s thigh against his groin was possibly more pleasurable than any woman’s hands had been in the past.

There was still concern in John’s eyes as he looked up at the blond man. He placed his hand against the side of his lover’s face and lightly urged him to move up. This caused both men to groan slightly as their bodies slid along one another. His intent was clear.

“I have morning breath Rog.” John said softly, his eyes still slightly foggy, but now it was from lust and not from sleep.

“I don’t care.” Roger replied before placing his hand against the back of Deaky’s head and tugging him in for a heated kiss. It was a lazy morning kiss, all slow movements, but filled with passion. As the kiss grew deeper, John shifted again so that he was fully on top of Roger, a leg on either side of the man beneath him. He pressed his hips down and they moaned into each other’s mouths at the friction this created between them.

Roger’s hands slid under the hem of the tee shirt that he loaned to John, and his calluses fingertips ran over the smooth skin there. Heat blossomed wherever he touched, and made the younger man roll his hips against the drummer’s again. The move sent fire through both men, their bodies clinging to one another like they were trying to meld into one being.

“Shhh, I don’t want Freddie to hear..” John said after rolling his hips against the man beneath him again, making him let out a louder groan as their clothed cocks brushed against each other.

Roger looked over at the clock on his nightstand and saw that the pair had slept in until mid morning. They were safe.

“It’s his day to open the stall, we’re alone.” Roger said, and his hands slid further under the bassist’s shirt causing him to shiver at the touch. John’s skin was so smooth under his fingertips, and he was warm like a furnace. He could feel the lean muscles moving in the skin as John’s body moved around.

John rose up so that he was kneeling over Roger, his butt resting against Roger’s crotch. With a look, he tugged the shirt off and tossed it aside, exposing his lean upper body. Roger looked up at him in an almost reverent way, callused hands roaming across the pale skin. He had the faintest bit of dark chest hair dusted across his sternum, and more dark hair that led beneath the waistband of the pyjama bottoms. The blond could see the top of John’s soulmate mark, the one that declared him to be Roger’s, peeking out from under the fabric.

With a wicked little grin, Roger flipped both men so that John was now beneath him, causing the younger man to yelp in surprise. Roger pulled off his own shirt before leaning down and kissing John again. The younger man wrapped his arms around the blond and held tight, his fingers digging into the peachy skin of Roger’s back. The kiss was short-lived as the drummer began to make his way down along John’s jaw and neck, kissing and nipping all along the column of his lover’s throat.

Roger rolled his hips against Deaky’s, and the man answered in kind. Their bodies writhed against one another, and Roger thought that this was quite possibly the most erotic thing he had ever done, and they weren’t even fully naked. All thoughts left his head when he perched himself on his elbows to look down at his soulmate. John’s wavy brown hair was splayed out over the pillow, his lips swollen and wet from their kisses. His green-grey eyes were clouded with lust and Roger could feel the need and want flowing between them through the bond. It screamed for more. More skin, more touch, more of each other.

“Can I.. can I touch you John?” Roger said softly, his meaning clear. The tiniest amount of hesitancy went through him, but one look at how wrecked his soulmate already looked was enough to shove that feeling away. He needed to see him come undone. His uncertainty, and fear was miles away when John was with him like this. He wasn;t sure he wanted to go farther than just touching right now, but he wanted to at least try this.

“Please,” John pleaded as his hands roamed over Roger’s back and sides, his hips rolling up again to let Roger know just how much he needed it. “Please Rog, I might explode if you don’t.”

A shiver ran through the blond at the brunet’s pleading tone. How could he deny the man anything when he looked like this, and begged like that? Roger rose up more, and dragged his hand down John’s chest and stomach. He tugged at the hem of the brunet’s bottoms and pants, his fingers brushing over the black ‘R’ and crown mark as he did. 

Roger’s eyes looked down between them as his hand reached in and wrapped around the length of John, freeing his cock from confinement. 

“Oh that is just not fair, love.” He said as his hand lightly stroked along John’s erection. John was big. Roger really had only himself to compare to, and he’d never had any complaints. The shy bassist had been hiding a massive cock beneath those tight trousers of his. Roger had seen the bulge, but any time he’d thought about it, he’d shoved the thoughts aside.

John whined loudly as Roger stroked him, his hips rolling as much as he could into the movement. The younger man’s blunt nails dug into Roger’s back as he clung on like his life depended on it. Roger couldn’t blame him. Even just this felt more intense than he’d ever felt before. It was the bond of the soulmate that did it. When you could feed on each other’s pleasure this way everything felt a thousand times more vibrant. The drummer used his thumb to swipe at the head, gathering the precum there and using it to smooth his movements on his lover.

John’s hands slid down Roger’s sides as he panted softly, nails dragging slightly before moving to dip his fingertips just under the hem of the drummer’s pants, his glazed eyes silently asking if this was ok. It was. It was more than ok. This was his soulmate, and all Roger’s mind could think about was wanting more of his Deaky. He wanted to feel more, see more, taste more. He wanted to drink in everything he could of John.

He nodded quickly before dipping down and dragging John into an even sloppier kiss. The brunet’s hand slipped under the waistband and wrapped around Roger’s leaking prick while none too carefully shoving the fabric down so that they were both out in the open. Roger cried out lightly into John’s mouth when his firm grip began to move up and down the length of him, keeping in time with his own strokes on the bassist. Their hands brushed against one another as they worked at each other, their lips and tongues and teeth fighting for dominance against one another. John might be beneath him right now, but he held so much power over Roger at that moment.

They were both slick with precum, and sweat was making both men shine under the late morning sun that spilled through the window. The only sounds in the room were the groans and whimpers of both men as they rolled and writhed against one another. 

“Deaky, John.. love you are so fucking incredible. You are so gorgeous. You look so pretty under me.” Roger said between kisses and bites along John’s collarbones. “Your cock is so big, it feels so good in my hand.” Roger had found a new boldness in this. He was saying things he’d never said before, but to not tell John exactly what he thought would have been a crime. He’d been worried before about how it would be to be intimate with another bloke, and even a little scared of what it meant. But being with John made that fear go away, even if it was just for the moment. That was what mattered right now, this moment that they were in together.

“Rog, please.. I want to.. Please.. I’m so close.” John breathed against Roger’s ear after pulling away from his mouth. He kissed at the blond’s ear before letting out more panted whines and whimpers as the pleasure grew to a fever pitch inside both men. 

“Come on baby, cum for me love. I bet you’ll look so beautiful painted with it.” Roger had a bit of a dirty mouth when it came to sex. Communication was key in these situations, and though most of his previous encounters had been nothing more than one night stands, he always made sure to talk about sex while it was happening. It was even more important now that he was with his soulmate. 

Roger felt John go tense beneath him and with a cry, John came. It spilled up over both men’s bare chests and stomach. Roger’s face stayed trained on John’s the whole time, watching every little expression that crossed it while he was lost in the bliss of the moment. The drummer thought that there was no sight more beautiful in the world than that of John Deacon during an orgasm. 

What sent Roger over the edge was when John flicked his wrist, and a blissful wicked smile crossed his lust drunk face. Roger groaned, long and low, when he felt his core contract. He kept staring at Deaky, right in the eyes while he rode out his orgasm right on the tail of his soulmate’s. That moment felt more deep than just an orgasm. It felt like something inside of his very soul had slotted into place like another puzzle piece, and from the hazy fog of feelings he was getting from John, he had felt the same.

When the final aftershocks had ridden through him, he collapsed, twisting onto his back next to John, both with eyes closed and breaths coming in ragged pants. They laid there in silence for a while, both just basking in the afterglow while cum cooled on their chests and stomachs, their soft cocks still out of their pants. 

“Fuck, love.” Roger said when he’d finally caught his breath again. “You didn’t tell me you were smuggling a goddamn elephant trunk in your trousers!” Roger said with a goofy smile plastered on his face. He was still high on the rush of dopamine that a really good orgasm gave you.

John just laughed at that, the sheer joy and humor of the moment flooding through both men.

“Well, you never asked! Ugh I’m all dirty now..” John said as the high came down, and he sat up on his elbows and looked down at his stomach and chest, splattered with the sticky white liquid. 

“I think you look lovely just like that.” Roger spoke, his voice lower and raspier than before as he scanned John’s body. He looked absolutely filthy in the best possible way, covered in their cum, hair a wild mess and body still a bit flushed from their actions.

John’s cheeks heated up in a blush at that statement. “Can I use the shower?” He asked, even though he knew it was a silly question.

“Only if I get to use it with you. Conserve water and all that.” Roger said with a cheeky grin. It was so easy when he was alone with John to forget about his fears.

Turns out that the two of them sharing a shower did not, in fact, save any water. They savored their time under the spray, giving slow kisses while they cleaned the mess from each other. John and Roger discovered that the blond had a thing for having his hair washed that was a surprise to both men. It was a gentle and caring act that sent shivers down the man’s spine while John’s fingers ran through it to wash away the grease and dirt.

“Hey Rog,” John said as he watched Roger rinse the soap from his body, “I just noticed.. the dot above the i in Liar is a bass clef.” He ran his fingertips over the mark on the drummer’s skin. He’d been studying the angles and curves of his soulmate’s body while he rinsed off. He hadn’t noticed it the first time that they’d shown each other their marks, both men too caught up in the moment to take in the small details.

“It is?” Rog said as he looked down, but the odd angle of the placement and his poor eyesight didn’t help it be any clearer to him. “I’d not noticed.. poor eyesight and all that.” He said a bit sheepishly. “Seems a bit obvious that it was meant to be you now doesn’t it?”

John smiled, showing off the little gap in his front teeth before leaning in and giving Roger a gentle kiss as water beat down on them. 

Both men had given up their day to one another. Homework and projects were put on the back burner, though they did have to show up to practice that afternoon for the band. They were content in their own bubble for the time being. After putting on more borrowed clothes from Roger, John made them lunch with what little supplies he had found in the kitchen. Cheese on toast, his specialty.

They lounged in the living room, curled up with each other on the couch as music played over the radio in the background. Roger was only slightly regretting his decision to let John choose the station. It was some sort of soul music, but it wasn’t too bad. Most of their attention was on each other anyways. Conversation flowed easily between them, just as it always had so far. Their talks were punctuated by snogging sessions that ranged from sweet, and sensual to passionate and raunchy. They never went farther than kissing though, not like they had that morning.

It was just like the unspoken agreement they had about not telling anyone about what they were to each other, except for Freddie and Brian. They already knew about it, and both men had proven to be trustworthy. They were going to try and be careful about this, and not overdo it so quickly. This morning had probably pushed it farther than they should have, but neither man was complaining.

John looked at the clock, and noticed that they only had about a half an hour before they needed to be at practice. 

“We should get ready for practice,” He said with a sigh. He wasn’t looking forward to having to leave their little nest of comfort and safety, but needs must. Roger looked just as disappointed as he felt, but both men grudgingly got up from where they had been cuddling up on the couch. John put on his same pants from the night before, and a different loaned shirt from Roger. It was good fortune that they seemed to have similar sizes so it wasn’t exactly a hardship. Most of Roger’s clothes were much more flamboyant than John was used to wearing, yet he somehow managed to find something that was more to his taste. It was just a simple white button up, but it worked.

Before they left the flat, they stood by the front door all dressed and ready to go. The blond wrapped his arms around his soulmate’s waist, who wrapped his arms around his shoulders. They silently leaned in and kissed, slow and soft for just a moment before resting their foreheads against one another. They didn’t know when they would have the opportunity to touch so openly like this again. 

“Ready?” John said in a whisper. The answer was no. No they weren’t ready. Neither man thought they would ever be ready, but they had to. So Roger just nodded and pulled away from John before opening up the door and both men stepped back out into the real world.

They hopped into Roger’s van and drove through the streets of late afternoon London. John had discreetly placed his hand on Roger’s thigh while he drove, his face staying trained on the streets around them. The drummer did his best to stay focused on the roads, when all he wanted to do was look at John. He wished so badly that he could turn them around and hole them up in the flat for the rest of their lives, and never have to deal with the nonsense of having to not touch his soulmate. Life never did work the way you wanted it to, and he knew that all too well.

When they got to the car park next to the rehearsal space, he pulled into a spot and sighed, looking over at John. The bassist looked back over at him, and gave him a small smile. It said everything that Roger needed. ‘It’s ok. We’re ok. We can do this.’

Roger wrapped his pinky finger around John’s where it still rested on his thigh and gave a little squeeze before letting go and getting out of the van. It was time to face the music, in more ways than one.


	8. The March Of The Black Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Roger face the music, and the band have their first gig together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there everyone! I'm finally back on this train! Thank you so much for sticking around and putting up with my hectic and unpredictable posting. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

By the time Roger had finished unloading his kit and getting it set up, Brian had showed up to the practice space with guitar in hand. The look he gave the drummer was filled with questions, but he stayed silent. Brian knew that everything was a sensitive subject right now, and would wait until he made his own observations before asking about anything. It was the scientist in him.

John showed up a few minutes later, having made the short trek to his residence hall to retrieve his bass and amp, and he’d changed into more comfortable clothes as well. He’d ditched the platforms for a pair of trainers to give his aching feet a rest, and was in a form fitting tee shirt and jeans. To Roger he was as beautiful as ever, maybe even more. This was just Deaky who was trying to impress no one. He didn’t need to. Just being him was more than enough for Roger.

“Hello Brian,” John said in a light tone and a small smile as he hopped up on to the platform to join the two men.

“Good to see you John,” Brian said with a nod of his head, and lightly clutching his Red Special closer to himself. The  _ not crying and in one piece  _ was implied.

Roger didn’t miss the way that Brian’s eyes darted between the two of them as John set up his amp and bass. It looked like the astrophysicist was trying to see if anything was going to explode if the level of wariness in his gaze was any indication. 

“Deaky, love,” the blond said, startling the brunet while he focused on tuning his bass. The drummer saw a slight blush of pink cross his soulmate’s face at the pet name. Roger found it very cute to see him get a bit flustered over the endearment. “I want to go over that bit in KYA we were working on at the last practice. We have some time before Freddie shows.” 

John smiled at the way that Roger rolled his eyes at the last bit. Because of the bassist, Roger had been the first one to show up to practice. Now he was starting to understand how Brian felt when he had to wait for the others. John nodded and moved closer to the drum kit, standing in front of it and giving a few plucks to his strings to make sure they were tuned and that the sound carried through the amp.

They went through the part, Roger guiding John through the rhythm changes. Occasionally, Brian joined in with a suggestion. It all felt very familiar and normal. They’d been at it for at least twenty minutes before Freddie flouced into the room with an apology for being late. The other three men just shook their heads and sighed. 

“I see that you two have managed to work out your problems.” Freddie said after putting aside his bag and coat. It was hard to miss the way the two looked at each other. At least, to those who knew what was going on between them. It hadn’t escaped even Brian, who was known to be a little spacy at times. 

Roger and John shared a look, and then both looked down at the ground.

“Yeah, we worked it out.” John said quietly as his fingers fiddled with the tuning heads of his bass. He raised his head and looked over at Roger once again, who gave him a soft smile.

“But, we would appreciate it if you both kept it to yourselves.” Roger spoke, looking between the singer and the guitarist. John nodded his agreement, his hand tightening around the fretboard of his bass, the thick strings digging into the pads of his fingers.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlings.” Freddie said with a hand over his heart.

“Not my place to judge or tell.” Said Brian matter-of-factly.

Roger and John both let out sighs of relief, releasing a tension they hadn’t known they’d been holding in their bodies.

“Now, about that new song I showed you.” Freddie began as he took the papers out from his bag, shuffling them around.

Practice went on as usual. Nothing had really changed between the last one and this one. John was still acclimating into the group, but he felt less of an outsider than he had before. He and Roger were in sync, Brian was still heavy handed with his guitar playing, and Freddie was still flouncing about like a peacock.

Everything felt as it should. The new song that had gotten Roger and John into a state at the previous practice really did have potential. Freddie gave them the basic outline of how he wanted the song to move, and the overall type of sound that he wanted them to produce. The three other men began to give their input, mostly Roger and Brian, with the bassist only chiming in occasionally to suggest a bassline or a note on rhythm. 

That took up the first half of their rehearsal time, and it had been enough to get the skeleton of the song done. They called for a break, and just as at previous rehearsals, the four men sat at the edge of the riser with John and Roger sharing a cigarette while Freddie made notes on the new song, and Brian fiddled with Red Special. This time though, Roger wrapped one arm around John’s shoulders, fingers idly toying with the collar of the younger man’s shirt, which sent a flush of heat into his cheeks.

The second half of rehearsal was taken up with going over the old songs again, and trying new and different ways to mix them up a bit.

“That was fantastic, gentlemen!” Freddie exclaimed as they brought the last song to a close. “I daresay we could even play a gig now!”

John felt heat rise up in his cheeks. He’d known when he came to audition for the band that they would at some point be playing in front of people. It didn’t stop his nerves from ramping up at the thought. He looked over to Roger at the sound of the squeaking seat behind the drumkit and saw Roger looking at him with a reassuring smile. Of course he would be able to feel that spike of anxiety through their bond.

“Speaking of,” Brian said as he gently placed his lady in the guitar case, “I’ve got something for us. I wasn’t sure we’d be able to play it after..” He didn’t finish that thought. Everyone knew what he meant.  _ After the last rehearsal when John and Roger found out they were soulmates and Roger had a panic attack and went on a bender. _ “In any case, remember that pub we played in a few months ago? They’ve said we can play there again in a couple of weeks, and since business has been better, they’ve offered us a bit more than last time.”

A couple of weeks? That was so soon. The band had barely been together at this point. By the time the gig came around they’d have only been a group for just over a month. Fortune favors the bold though, and truth be told, all four men could use the money that the gig would pay. All four men were scraping by, subsisting on financial grants for school, and side jobs like Brian’s assistant teaching, and Freddie and Roger’s work at the stall. John himself took on the occasional odd job fixing appliances whenever he could for some spare cash.

John didn’t know where that last gig had been, but he rolled with it. It was just a pub after all, and would be filled with drunk people who probably wouldn’t care too much about the shy bassist. He’d be fine. Probably. At least Roger, Freddie. and Brian would be there with him.

It was decided after a few minutes of debate that they would do the gig. They’d either make it through the thing, or go down in spectacular flames. If all else failed, at least they could get piss drunk afterwards and forget about the whole affair.

“We’ll need extra rehearsals, so clear your schedules.” Freddie said with a clap of his hands. 

Roger didn’t look bothered by that statement, but both John and Brian winced at the thought just a bit. They were the ones that were more dedicated to their studies. Brian still had papers to grade for the professor he assisted for, and John had a project due the following week that he was already a bit behind on due to the mitigating circumstances of the last few days.

They knew that they weren’t going to be able to get out of it. Freddie and Roger would both badger them into doing the practices, so it was pointless to argue. John might grumble a bit, but he wasn’t going to turn down any opportunity he could get to be near Roger. He had a sneaking suspicion that even if they didn’t have the extra practices, there would be a certain blond distraction hanging around him. Mentally, and most likely physically as well. At least with the rehearsals, there would be some kind of work done.

The two eldest took off first, with Brian saying he really did need to catch up on grading papers that evening, and Freddie with an insinuation of a hot date with his girlfriend, Mary. This left the youngest two alone together again. Their walls dropped a little bit more now, though there was still a chance that people could walk in on them at any moment. It wasn’t like they were doing anything out of the ordinary. They were taking down Roger’s kit and hauling the pieces from the music hall to the drummer’s van. It was still just the two of them together.

They shared little smiles with each other while they chattered away while at their task. Each brush of fingers when they passed drum parts to each other felt electric. It was a small rush for both of them, almost like when they snogged against a tree in the park the previous evening.

Once the kit was safely tucked in the cargo space of Roger’s van, along with John’s bass and amp, the blond lit up a cigarette and passed it to John. It was his way of drawing their time together out. He knew he would have to drop the bassist back at his dorm soon, and then wouldn’t be able to see him, touch him, or kiss him until their next rehearsal in a couple of days. The thought tugged at his very soul. It didn’t want to be separated from its other half so soon.

They leaned up against the side of the van, their arms brushing against one another each time they raised the cigarettes to their lips. John wrapped his arms around himself in a bid to keep himself from reaching out to hold Roger’s hand or wrap an arm around him. Roger had his free hand tucked into his jacket pocket to attempt the same thing. Their eyes scanned across the car park, occasionally moving to look at the other, and sharing a smile when their eyes met. 

“Y’know…” Roger said as they got near the end of their cigarettes, “It seems a bit silly to drive you back to your dorm right now.”

John turned and raised a questioning eyebrow at Roger. Was he not going to give him a lift back to his hall? They just loaded up his bass and amp into the back of the van, and it seemed a hassle for him to take it back out again for the trek back. Did Roger not want to drive him? Was he having second thoughts? Nervous anxiety began to swirl inside of John at the thought, thinking that the progress they had made was going to backslide.

“I mean,” Roger said, the bond causing him to pick up on the nervous energy the brunet was giving him in waves. “We’ve been working really hard, and all that playing must have built an appetite. I know I always get hungry after rehearsals.”

“Oh..” John said quietly as he picked up on Roger’s meaning. A smile spread across his lips at what Roger was suggesting. Another way to extend their time together. John couldn't find it in himself to refuse, even if there was still a pile of coursework that needed to be done. He could always do it later. “I am pretty hungry.” John said with a grin of his own. “Cheese on toast only goes so far.”

“Even if it is the world’s best.” Roger said with a cheeky laugh. That made John beam with pride. He knew it wasn’t true, but the sentiment made him feel fluttery inside. John felt a brush against his hand and looked down to see Roger’s hand against his own. They wrapped their pinky fingers around each other before letting go. “Come on then. There’s a fantastic curry place that Fred and I go to. You’ll love it.”

This was the first, but by no means the last, of the many ways they made excuses to spend more time together. Most of the time, if they weren’t actively in lectures, the two were together. Freddie and Brian had begun to refer to them as the Siamese Twins, as they seemed to be joined at the hip. Neither man minded though, as they saw how the two were when they were around each other. Roger’s zest for life and outgoing nature helped pull the shy bassist from his little shell, and John’s practicality helped bring Roger down from the clouds. 

Many of their nights were spent in Roger and Freddie’s flat. Over the next two weeks, John had spent so much time there that he had gotten himself an extra toothbrush to keep in the bathroom, spare clothes in Roger’s wardrobe, and had even bought groceries because he was making meals for all three men while there. Not to mention, the state of the singer and drummer’s fridge and cupboards was something of a nightmare. John wasn’t going to let his soulmate wither away with hunger or die from food poisoning by trying to cook for himself.

They kissed, and snuggled, and constantly touched each other when they were in the flat. They did while in John’s room at the residence hall as well, but not as openly or eagerly. Even when John brought his textbooks over to study, the two couldn’t help but sit pressed side by side, or with one pair of legs draped across the other’s lap.

All of this made it so much harder when the two had to leave their sanctuaries of privacy and out into the real world. It hurt both of them so much to know that even though their souls were connected, their gender would make some people view them as  _ wrong. _ Maybe someday, that would change. Right now, they had to keep their distance so to speak. They still sat flush against each other in booths, with Roger’s arm casually across John’s shoulders. They shared cigarettes and freely drank from each other’s glasses. On the outside, this appeared as all fairly normal things that close friends would do. On the inside, it meant so much more to them.

As the date of their first gig together as Queen drew nearer, Roger could feel a flurry of anxiety flowing through him from his soulmate. It was like a swarm of butterflies had taken up residence in his stomach and chest. The feeling grew bigger and bigger every day, right up until the evening of the show. He had somewhat succeeded in getting John to calm down when that sensation came through to him. Usually all it took was a touch, and sometimes a few words to help the younger man out.

It was still slightly unnerving to John that Roger could feel everything from him. He was always so careful to keep himself at a distance, and having someone so intimately connected with him was terrifying. That feeling still hadn’t gone away, but like Roger, he’d made a vow to himself that he would try to overcome his fear.

Roger didn’t need the bond between them to know that his Deaky was nervous about playing on stage. The young man sat on the sagging couch of what was generously called a ‘dressing room’ chewing at one of his thumbnails. His leg was bouncing up and down in a quick, nervous rhythm. Roger felt anxiety swirl through his guts, and after applying one last swipe of mascara to his lashes, he moved over to sit by his distracted soulmate.

John was dressed up in a black and white ruffled shirt, tight black flared trousers, and a pair of black and white platform boots. His eyes were lined with kohl, and his lashes were darkened further by mascara. Everything together made John look even more ethereal than Roger already thought he was. It had taken quite a bit of convincing on Freddie’s part to get the bassist into the outfit and makeup, but it was worth it. Deaky was a vision, and Roger was pretty sure that later that evening after the show he’d have to fight off hordes of women to get to his man.

“Hey love.” Roger said softly as he reached out and took John’s hand in his own, pulling it away from his mouth so he would stop torturing his nail. John looked over to Roger, and the blond saw the panic deep down in his soulmate’s eyes. “Everything is going to be alright. You’ll do fantastic.” He ran his thumb over the back of John’s large hand in a soothing gesture.

“What if I’m shit? I look ridiculous in this outfit! What if they laugh at me?” The youngest member of the band said in rapid succession, his hand squeezing tightly around Roger’s. 

Before Roger could answer, the manager of the pub they were playing at opened up the door to the tiny room and said, “You’re up in two minutes.” And quickly closed the door behind him. If he’d seen John and Roger’s connected hands, he hadn’t shown it.

Roger could almost hear his bones creaking as John clung even more tightly to his hand.

“You are not going to be shit.” Roger said with an air of certainty. John could never be shit. If anyone disagreed with him, he’d knock their lights out. John didn’t look very convinced. “I will be right there with you. Me, and Brian, and Freddie. We are all on stage with you, baby.” Roger reached up and swiped a lock of hair out of Deaky’s face. “We play so well together. We’re a team. We’re the rhythm section, the backbone of the band. Us. Together. If you get nervous, you just have to look at the drumkit and I’ll be there.”

Roger brought John’s hand up and brushed his lips across John’s knuckles quickly. This was not the time or place for overt displays of physical affection. Roger felt a weight lift from his chest when John nodded in response, and reluctantly pulled his hand away from the blond’s so that he could take hold of his bass and sling it over his shoulder as he stood from his place on the couch. Brian and Freddie had been standing near the door, quietly having a conversation of their own when they were approached by the two youngest members of the band.

“Ready everyone?” Brian said with a small smile on his face. John’s nerves had not escaped him or Freddie.

“Yes!” Roger said with a big grin, and John nodded after swallowing thickly.

“Deaky, darling you’re going to be a hit, I just know it!” Freddie said as he slung an arm over John’s shoulder, leading them out and onto the stage.

They all ran up onto the small platform at the back of the pub that served as their stage for the evening, and Roger reached out and gave John’s shoulder a squeeze and gave him a reassuring smile as he brushed past the younger man to go sit behind his kit. To all outward appearances it looked like a bandmate encouraging another bandmate before a show. It was, but they couldn’t see the affection and tenderness in the drummer’s eyes.

From where John stood near the back side of stage right, he saw that the pub was decently filled with people. His heart hammered in his chest, the words that Freddie were speaking to entice the crowd flowing in and out of his brain and never taking root.

“Deaks!” The stage whisper voice of Roger filtered through the white noise, and John turned to look over at the blond who was a few feet away behind his kit. “You’ll do great, you and me remember?” He gave the brunet a grin and twirled one of his drumsticks in his hand.

John nodded, giving Roger the tiniest of smiles in return and faced forwards again, just in time to hear Freddie introducing their first song. John sucked in a deep breath and squeezed tightly to his bass. He heard Roger begin the countdown off to his side, and then he began to play.

He focused on the rhythm, and on listening to the beat of Roger’s drums. His eyes peeked over to the kit every so often to see that his soulmate was having the time of his life. That was where Roger belonged. John counted himself lucky to be able to share this with him. That thought lifted more of the anxiety from him, and he began to play more enthusiastically. He moved away from his partially shadowed place next to the drum platform, and up closer to the front of the stage. He looked over his shoulder and saw Roger watching him with a smirk on his face as he beat away at his drums.

The look spurred John on, and he allowed himself to feel more of the music. He bopped around a bit, shaking his hips and stomping his feet. He smiled when Freddie came over and pranced around him, even playing along a bit. Roger was right. John wasn’t up here alone. He had Roger, and Freddie, and Brian all here with him. They were all having a great time putting on a show for people, and playing their instruments. They were musicians sharing their talent with the world. Well, they were sharing it with a pub full of people, but John now understood what Roger had meant when he talked about wanting to be a rockstar. The joy he could see and sense in the other three men on stage was addicting.

Especially what he could feel through his bond with Roger. There was elation, and focus coming through to John, and that feeling overrode his own nervous anxiety. It felt like they had just begun when the last crash of drums and cymbals was ringing out. John turned and looked to Roger for the cue to end the song. Roger gave him a wink and they ended the song with one final pounding note. The sound of applauding and cheering rang out through the room, as much as it could, and John moved to join Freddie and Brian at the front of the stage.

Roger stood up from behind his kit, and moved to join the other three at the front of the stage to take a bow. He slung an arm around John’s neck as he waved out to the pub. The bassist felt a warm flush rise in his cheeks as he waved as well, before the men all trooped off of the stage.

They’d done it. They’d performed in front of a room full of people, and the audience had actually cheered at the end of it. It had been a total rush. Once they got back to the dressing room, John took his bass off and set it down next to it’s case. The moment it was out of his hands, he felt himself being tugged around and pulled into a tight embrace by Roger. He felt too giddy to worry about being seen and wrapped his arms around the blond just as tightly. Heat rose in his cheeks when Roger pulled back a bit, only to plant a smacking kiss to the younger man’s lips.

“You were amazing love!” He said with a grin and then moved to whisper in John’s ear. “You looked fucking hot out there.” That statement was followed by Roger’s hand sliding down John’s back to just above the swell of the bassist’s ass before he pulled away fully.

John really wished that they could just leave to go back to Roger and Freddie’s flat, but unfortunately that wasn’t how this worked. Brian insisted that after the gig they go out into the pub and try to get feedback about the show. John had rolled his eyes at that. He knew that Brian did want that feedback, but he also wanted to pull.

The guys quickly changed out of the stage clothes, and scrubbed the make up from their faces. John had enlisted the help of Roger to make sure all of the eyeliner was off of him, not trusting himself to not get it into his own eyes. John had to stop himself from leaning in and kissing Roger senseless as he wiped the makeup from around his eyes. He had been so close, and the look of concentration on his face had been so cute.

Once John was cleaned of makeup, Roger looked around. The door was shut, and Freddie and Brian were engrossed in removing their own makeup and changing their clothes. He leaned forward and brushed a softer kiss against John’s now lipstick-free lips. John sighed against Roger’s lips, but the blond pulled away all too soon for his liking, giving him a saucy wink. 

“Ok baby, let’s get the kit loaded back into the van. After that, I’m buying you a pint. One pound says the first girl to come up goes for you.” He said as he held out his hands to his soulmate to help him stand. He was trying to make light of how they knew they would be approached afterwards. John laughed as he stood, the little joke helping him feel a bit better.

“You’re on.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! A huge shout out to Phoenix_Queen for the help and to The Clog Factory for all the support and silliness! Please be sure to leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed, and please come on over to tumblr and shout at me. My handle is the same as on here!


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